One Pill Two Pill Red Pill Blue Pill
by XxDarkSarcasm1010xX
Summary: Sociopath, Murderer, Rapist, Kidnapper. That's how he'd be remembered. As a monster that seduced, broke, and created a harem of South Park's most desirable teenage boys. But even monsters are bred from some kind of hell, and for Tweek Tweak, that hell started with his childhood.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Alright, this is a quick warning of sorts, and the only note I'm writing for this story. I've never done something like this; this story is going to get violent, ideas and morals will be warped, and there are a lot of surprises. I broke this story down into six parts, with two or three chapters per part, being different stages of Tweek life. Bear with me, the first part is an introduction to the madness that's about to ensue. This is going to be told in a Nonlinear Narrative, so the story isn't exactly in chronological order, but it will make sense in the grand scheme of things, I assure you. If you can stick around for this, then you'll be rewarded with the story that comes in the later parts, and in no way will it be as tame and innocent as the initial chapters are. There's going to be a lot of character death, swearing, blood, and violence. Essentially, it's going to become a psychological thriller: with good vs. bad and a self vs. self; you've never seen anything like this before. I don't own South Park, I don't own Tweek, I only own all the ideas that are put into this story, and the crazy things inside Tweek's head. So sit back, relax, and hopefully, you stick with me while you watch this baby unfold.

* * *

One Pill, Two Pill, Red Pill, Blue Pill

Part 1

Chapter 1

_A Beginning to an End_

* * *

The bittersweet smell of urine soiled pants stings his nostrils, causing his face to flare red with shame. He isn't aware he's sitting in a puddle of his own release, or that the reason for why he's cold is because the dampness has cooled against his skin.

Panicked breaths for air has his head spinning, the darkness around him is trying to crush him. Curling into a small ball, the boy bites his tongue, his shifty eyes darting in the blackness.

Why is he in the dark? How did he get here? Where is here?

Bile rises in his throat as he shakes, trying so hard not to just bite his tongue and lose all sense of himself. He rocking's back and forth, feeling filthy, feeling scared. He's scared. It makes him sick. He's pathetic. He makes himself sick.

_Kill yourself. Kill yourself._

He doesn't know if he's thinking it, or if he's being told.

"Tweek, Tweek," he hisses nastily, "Tweek, Tweek."

What is this word? A Tweek? The word stings his throat, clouding his mind with horrible images. A monster, a monster is what it is.

He bolts up, anger consuming him now. Stripping out of his soiled clothing he rakes his nails over his naked skin, they leave long red marks against his chest. He move's his hands over his neck, clawing at the skin, trying to get out. He wants to kill himself. He's so tired of this, of existing.

Lights flicker on and the darkness disappears, causing a screech to rip from his body. He wants to hide with the darkness, that's his safe place. He shields his eyes, sobbing at the burning. He's on fire. He's being killed by the monster. There are voices in his head, someone's yelling. Someone's coming to get him.

His nails draw more blood.

He opens his eyes briefly, ignoring the metallic smell on his skin, and the searing pain on his neck. He's wants to know where he is. He reels back, seeing human faces on the walls. He covers his mouth as a dry sob escapes him, looking at the bodies lying around him. He knows they're dead. They're all dead. Four faces, so much blood, the entire floor is stained red. He recognizes them right away; he's surrounded by the dead bodies of boys he grew up with; Marsh, Stoley, Stotch, and Tucker. He doesn't understand why there are so many chains and so much blood. And Craig, why Craig?

His eyes are shut tightly again in pain, his heart is pounding viciously, too fast. He doesn't know how to breathe, he refuses to breathe.

Sirens blare around him, and he gasps for air.

Banging noises surround him, or are they coming from the inside his head?

"Holy shit, we found them."

_Kill yourself_!

"Get on the ground!"

A thought? A voice?

_Smash your head against the floor._

He shakes his head and hisses as his hands tug at his hair.

_Kill yourself, kill yourself, you piece of shit, you good for nothing, kill yourself! _

"Get on the damn ground! Call backup! Get an ambulance, get four!"

There are too many voices. They're killing him. They're killing him.

"Tweek Tweak, get on the fucking ground!"

"What's a Tweek?! What the fuck is a Tweek? It's a monster. It's a monster! Craig? Craig!" He screams, crying, sobbing. Hands are on him, he's being touched, so he lashes out and tries to kill them. They want the monster to win. He'll kill them all.

A piercing bang and he feels something sharp in him, a weapon. They want to make him sleep so the monster can win.

So the monster can win.

But the monster has won a long time ago.

* * *

Eavan didn't know that on the night of August seventeenth she would be giving birth to the main character of South Park's future horror stories. In eighteen years' time, it was _him _who children would be checking under their beds and in their closets for. It wasn't the boogeyman they'd be afraid of, but rather a real monster.

His existence would become just another stain on this backwater town, just as his story would be told for generations around campfires by rebellious adolescences. Just how his name would scare children during the middle of the night, and his face would be the best selling mask at Halloween every year after.

But until then, Eavan would love her little boy, and he would the best thing to have ever have happened to her, other than marrying his father that is.

Sitting silently in the white hospital bed, she cradles her new bundle of joy to her chest, thinking how beautiful he is. He doesn't even cry; he's already a good baby, the best baby.

He's a perfect baby who just needs a perfect name.

Eavan looks over towards her sleeping husband, who has been up with her since she first came back from the caesarian. Her poor Richard Tweak looks so tired after staying up the entire night for her.

She smiles at him, brushing away a dirty blonde strand of hair from her face that obstructs her view. Her beautiful baby has much fairer hair, a blonde halo, she thinks.

Now she has two people in the world she can love dearly. Her husband, the Mr. Tweak to her Mrs. Tweak, and now their baby Tweak who makes up their happy little Tweak family. Ever since losing her own family, Richard Tweak had brought her the utmost happiness, and now he had gone and done it again. This time he has given her a child.

"Eavan, hun, are you awake still?" Richard whispers, stirring awake in his chair.

"I have a name for him," she responds, holding the baby a little tighter.

"What we're you thinking?"

"I want to name him after someone who has made me the happiest I've ever been," her eyes shimmer as she looks at him, "I want to name him after you."

Richard looks flattered, a grin breaking out on his face.

She stares at her baby, who yawns softly, "I want to name him Tweek."

Richard blinks. "Tweek Tweak…? Hun, are you sure about that? It's like decaffeinated coffee…it's not exactly…_practical_."

"It's what makes me happy." She says in tears.

Richard bites his tongue, "Alright, then that's what it'll be."

* * *

"If you close your eyes tight and hold yourself just right, nothing can hurt you, Tweek." His mother whispers to him.

Tweek sobs as another crack of lighting illuminates their small kitchen, followed by the loud bang of thunder. Eavan wraps her little boy up in her arms, letting him cling to her shirt. Tweek's never been more terrified of something then he's been of thunder storms. The bright lights and loud sounds cause his anxiety to worsen, and on more than one account he's made himself sick from the constant worry.

Once the power had gone off due to the storm, Eavan had forced Richard to help her convert their kitchen table into a pillow fort, with blankets draping the sides and all the pillows crammed around her and Tweek. Richard didn't understand why, but he did it anyways before heading to bed.

Tweek hates the darkness because he can't see what kinds of monsters are ready to jump out and get him. He looks towards his mother and copies her actions, and now they're both sitting as curled little balls. His heart is pounding, and out of instinct he continues to cry.

"Mommy," he whispers, hating the feeling of being frightened.

She pets his hair soothingly, "Oh baby, thunder and lightning are nothing to be afraid of. It can't come inside and get you; gnomes are much scarier than thunder and lightning."

"W-what are those? W-why are they scary?" Tweek is practically vibrating with all the tremors running through his body.

The stroking on his head continues as his mother stares at the kitchen window, "They're little people who sneak into houses, with pointy hats and big fluffy beards. They look nice and friendly, but they're actually mean and nasty. They like to steal things, and make you think they went missing. A lot of people don't know about them, but I know."

Tweek covers his ears with his hands, "My underwear! I-I was looking for them, and I thought I lost them. D-did the gnomes steal them?"

Eavan runs a hand through Tweek's messy blonde hair, "Yes, baby, I think they did."

A frown forces its way onto the little boys face as he peek's his head out of the pillow fort, glancing at the tiled floor, "Are they here now?" he whispers uneasily.

He crawls into his mother's lap, her arms a shield protecting him from the horrors of the outside world.

"Don't worry sweetie, mommy's going to tell you a secret: gnomes don't like thunder storms, it scares them away. You're safe on nights like this. And don't worry about your missing underwear, baby, mommy will buy you some more."

As a particularly vicious crack of thunder rings through the house, Tweek doesn't even flinch. With great surprise, he's not scared of thunder and lightning anymore, instead he finds it to be a slight a comfort. To know it can't hurt him or get him makes him give a sigh of relief.

Now all he has to worry about are the gnomes.

For the first time ever, Tweek wishes it could storm every day.

* * *

"Tweek, would you like to stay home today with mommy? We can bake cookies, and watch movies all day." Eavan beams while waking Tweek up from his bed.

Tweek yawns and rubs his eyes, "But I didn't go yesterday, or the day before."

Tweek realizes that what he just said is an understatement. His mother asks Tweek to stay home every few days, which is fun for him since he doesn't really like school, but he always ends up missing so much homework that he's fallen behind in all his classes. The other kids at school are jealous that he gets to stay home so much, but it has also made it hard for Tweek to make any real friends.

Eavan frowns, "Oh, well, if you don't want to, mommy can bring you to school."

Moving over in his bed, he looks towards her, and notices this is her sad look, the one she has before she starts crying. He moves the covers and invites her into his twin sized bed, which she obliges, and he wraps the comforter around them.

"Even if you don't want to go to school mommy will still love you, baby. Do you still love mommy?"

Tweek cuddles into her side, resting his head onto her breast. "I love you, mom. And…and I'd like to stay home with you. Making cookies sounds fun."

"You make me so happy, baby. You're such a sweet, beautiful, boy. The best baby a mother could have."

Richard appears in the doorway, giving the two a smile, "Morning hun, morning son. I'm leaving in five minutes, Tweek, so you better hurry up so I can drop you off at school on the way."

Eavan hugs Tweek a little closer to her side, "Don't worry about it, Richard. I'll walk Tweek to school in a bit. You can go on ahead, oh, and I'm making a roast for dinner. I know it's your favorite."

He walks forward and leans down, giving his wife a tender kiss. "Thank you Eavan, you're a doll. And you," he ruffles Tweek's hair, "have a good day at school champ. I'll pick you up on the way home."

Eavan intervenes, "That's okay, I'll grab him afterschool as well. I like walking."

Richard laughs, "Seems like it. This is the third time this week you've brought him to school. I better go before I'm late. Have a good day you two."

Tweek frowns as he hears his dad leave, wondering if his mother ever feels guilty for lying to him. But based on the way she's smiling, he doesn't think she feels too remorseful for pulling him out of school again.

"I'm going to call your school, okay sweetie? Then you can come downstairs and I'll make you pancakes."

"Okay mom," Tweek beams before deflating onto his bed. Sometimes he wonders if Craig, or Clyde, or even Stan and Kyle ever really miss that he's gone, but he doubts it. Sometimes his school friends can be pretty unobservant, but he guesses that's what happens when you don't go to school half of the time. Then again, he knew what kind of antics the kids at school were always getting up to, so he didn't mind not being a part of their activities. A lot of them always ended with something terrifying and dangerous happening and he was just happy to not be involved with all the drama.

Rolling out of bed he changes quickly into shorts and long sleeve, and runs downstairs to see if he can help his mother. Days like this usually go by in a blur, with the two of them constantly side by side. Tweek is becoming quite the baker with his mother's help, and he doesn't feel like anything can hurt him when she's around.

Currently the two had finished breakfast and were sitting at the kitchen table mixing up chocolate cookies they'd made from scratch. His mother doesn't trust things that come prepackaged, so she likes to make most things by hand considering she has a lot of free time to do so.

She grins at him, "Mommy loves spending time with her favorite little boy."

Tweek beams at her words, wondering if any of the other boys in his class have mothers who love them as much as his mom does, although those boys usually talk about going out with their families. Tweek's never really been out with his mom.

"Mom, do you think…do you think that maybe we can go to the park? Or watch a movie at the theater?" he asks quietly.

She drops her mixing spoon on the floor, confusion on her face, "I thought you wanted to watch movies here, baby?"

"Maybe this time we can go out and watch one. It could be fun."

Eavan grabs her spoon and starts washing it in the sink, "I don't know baby, once you step outside there are special people outside who watch you. They follow you around and document everything you do, everything that's bad or dangerous. The government thinks they're protecting us but I don't think it's a good idea. It's all conspiracies, honey," she turns off the tap and looks at Tweek, before giving a small smile, "I think we should watch movies at home."

Tweek stops mixing his bowl, his teeth clenched at the thought of people watching him every time his dad has ever brought him to school. He hands his mother the bowl and gives her a nod, and she pats his head affectionately.

"I love you." She hums, placing the cookies onto wax paper before putting them into the oven. "Why don't you go and pick a movie and mommy will be there in a second."

Tweek runs off to the living room and curls up onto the couch, his mother's words still on his mind. His mother passes the living room and slips upstairs for a few minutes, and he can hear her sing to herself. She's been doing this a lot lately, going to her room at random points of the day, but Tweek's never been brave enough to ask questions. Instead, they eat the cookies they made, and he lets her hold him as they watch movies they've watched dozens of times before, but Tweek doesn't mind. He likes knowing what's going to happen. There are no surprises if you already know what's coming.

The front door opens, and Eavan tenses, standing up and shielding Tweek behind her as Richard enters the house. He looks furious by the way he's staring at her, and Tweek stand's up, grasping his mother's hand.

For a moment they're all silent, before a timer goes off in the kitchen.

"Eavan—" Richard starts before she pushes past him, dragging Tweek along.

"The roast," She says to herself while letting go of Tweek's hand, grabbing the roast off of the counter, and placing it into the oven.

Richard grabs her arm and spins her around, "Eavan, I was talking with Sharon Marsh at the coffee shop today, and do you know what she said to me? She said she hopes that Tweek feels better. I thought to myself, well that's odd since Tweek hasn't been sick, so I asked her about it. And then she tells me that her son said that Tweek's been missing a lot of school this past year."

"I'm making your favorite," Eavan hisses, brushing Richard's hand off of her.

"You lied to me, Eavan! How many times have you been pulling him out of school? Have you been doing this every week? Do you know how much school he's missing because of it?" Richard can't believe that his wife could pull something like this behind his back.

She moves away from him before running upstairs, holding back her sobs.

Richards turns around and looks at Tweek, who's pressed up against the wall, staring up at him with fear. Richard hates that he's yelling in front of his son, but sometimes Eavan takes things too far.

Richard sighs as he gets down onto his knees and grasps Tweek by his shoulders, looking his son in the eyes. The boy flinches, so he loosens his grip and gives a small smile. "Tweek, I know you love your mother, and she loves you very much, but sometimes your mother does things that she shouldn't, like taking you out of school. You need to promise me something, okay champ?"

Tweek nods sadly, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"Next year you're going to be in fourth grade, so if mom tells you not to go to school, you have to promise me that you'll go anyways, okay? You might not like school now, but just like coffee, it's something that you'll need when you're older. So do you promise?"

"I promise." He sniffles.

"Good, now why don't you go upstairs and get your mother while I finish making dinner."

"Okay."

* * *

Tweek doesn't remember a lot from before the car accident. He doesn't remember a lot of anything anymore. He knows he's sitting in a circle, and it's supposed to mean something to him, but he can't fathom what.

There are two stuffed animals in his hands, along with all of the other toys and pillows that make up the circle around him. Out of all the toys he could have picked, for some reason it's the ugly ripped up cat, and the soft new puppy toy that he's deciding to hold onto.

And he doesn't know why.

He clutches his head and cries out, trying so hard to remember, but he can't and he hates it. He looks at the ugly cat and he screams and rips the toys head off, throwing it as far away from him as possible.

He feels so sick he's going to throw up a second time.

He's cold, so cold. He wishes he'd dressed in something more than his pajamas, but he doesn't want to move, he refuses to move. If he moves he'll leave the circle, then the blood and monsters can come and get him again.

His mother is lying down beside him, out of the circle, and he refuses to look at her. He knows she won't look at him; she won't be looking at anybody anymore.

There are two strangers standing above him, the sound of an ambulance just outside, and a feeling of anxiety suddenly bubbling in his chest.

Tweek starts to cry softly because he doesn't know anything anymore.

* * *

"One pill, two pill, red pill, blue pill," a soft voice sings out, drawing Tweek out of his bed one night and towards his mother's bedroom. He sees her perched at the end of the bed, beside his sleeping father. There's a container in her grasp as she brings something to her mouth and swallows it. "Three pill, four pi—sweetie?" she asks midsentence, staring nervously at her little boy as she tries to cover the object in her hands.

Tweek hides behind the door, his head peeking out. He doesn't know it, but he's walked in on something he definitely shouldn't have.

"What are you doin?" he asks.

He notices her glazed eyes, her red face, and her shaking hands. He backs away, scared of her. He's never been scared of his own mother; she was the one who protected him from monsters and the outside. But the way she's acting makes his chest hurt.

"Mommy?" he whispers.

She gives a half laugh, half cry, "Tweek, mommy…mommy has to take her medicine."

"Is…are you sick?" panic seizes him. Sickness is a dirty, unsuspected danger. Something he can't see that can hurt his insides. Mommy had told him that medicine was the only thing that could protect his insides, although in three years' time Tweek would learn firsthand that medicine could hurt just badly as any sickness.

She grasps her arms, "No, I'm not sick, I'm just…mommy's just making her insides feel better. Baby, don't be scared, it's okay, come here."

Tweek hesitates before running forward, burrowing his face into the fabric of her night gown. He pulls away after a few minutes, with his eyes red from crying. "Can you finish your song for me?"

He can feel her tense, and he fears he's made her angry, but her soft voice fills the room anyways, although it's no louder than a whisper, "T-three pill, four pill, one more refill."

She wraps her arms around him, "Five pill, six pill, Mama's going uphill. Seven pill, eight pill…"

She hisses the last line to herself, thinking her little angel hasn't heard her but he has. The two stay silent for a moment before she opens her arms, "Go back to bed, sweetie."

Tweek nods his unruly blonde head and skitters back to his room, closing his eyes and sliding into bed, his hands shaking. His chest aches again, and he's forces himself to slow his quick breathing. He's thinking of his mother's song to calm his nerves, and the sweet way she sung the lullaby.

He whispers the last line to himself as he closes his eyes, before falling into an undisturbed slumber.

"Seven pill, eight pill, my demons I kill."

* * *

It's the end of summer vacation and Tweek is nervous to be entering fourth grade. He had spent the entire summer with his family and he was always sad when school came back around and took him away from them. All the years before his mother would cry herself to sleep or force herself to clean the entire house while Tweek was at school, waiting for Richard to bring him back to her.

This year was no different, except Tweek was going to take the school bus for the first time, and the thought of another individual driving her baby had caused Eavan to curl in on herself and break down. Richard had been at work, running the family owned coffee shop, taking shifts earlier and staying longer now that he wouldn't have to bring or pick up Tweek from school.

Eavan feels like her entire world is being ripped from under her.

"Baby, I don't want you to go." She sobs.

Tweek stands at the front door with his hand on the handle as he watches his mother collapse on the floor. Her deep panting breaths and quivering body are all very bad signs. Guilt takes over him, and his eyes are drawn to the yellow school bus coming up the street. Unlike when his mom did _this_ the first time, Tweek knows exactly what's happening: she's having an anxiety attack. It's a term his dad poorly explained to him when he came home to find a police officer waiting for him to get home from work. His dad had walked in to the sight of his wife and son crying side by side in the living room.

Mom out of panic.

Tweek out of fear.

Tweek is well aware of what he has to do this time, but he's at a moral dilemma. He wants to help his mom, but he also wants to keep his promise to his dad by not missing another day of school.

He bites his lip and releases the door handle. He loves his mom too much to leave her like this, and if his dad gets mad at him for it, then that's just something he'll have to deal with.

Watching the bus speed past his house, he drops his bag to the floor and runs over to his mother, rubbing her back in soothing circles, and holds her close. His mom needs to be close to someone when she's emotional, and Tweek knows he gives the best hugs. Last time when she had an anxiety attack he had been with her the entire day, and he had hid behind the couch talking out loud as she made terrifying noises. This time he gets close and personal, grabbing her hands and trying to get her to relax.

He sings that pill song she likes so much, even though it makes her cry harder at first, but eventually she quiet's down. The two of them lie on the floor, and Tweek loses track of time. All he knows is that his legs are numb from sitting in the same position for too long. But he's scared if he moves he might upset her.

The front door opens, and Tweek sees his father walk in, although his back is to the living room. "Eavan, hun, are you here? I brought you a coffee."

He turns around and curses as he notices both Tweek and his wife sitting on the floor, huddled together. Putting the coffee on the table, he motions for Tweek to get out of the way as he grabs Eavan by her arm, jostling her from her trance. She yelps as he forces her to her feet, anger on his face.

"I come home for lunch and this is what I have to see! Eavan, what did I tell you last time about keeping Tweek home from school? You can't have an anxiety attack every time he leaves the house, he's a little boy and he needs to go to school." Richard snaps, letting go of her arm.

Eavan shifts away from him, collapsing onto the couch, "I-I didn't want Tweek to go to school on the b-bus." She hastily rubs away the tears that fall from her eyes.

Richard shakes his head in anger before his eyes land on Tweek, "And what about you? You _promised_. You promised that you wouldn't miss another day after last year."

Tweek swallows nervously, afraid of his father hitting him. "B-but she was cryin' and I was scared she was gonna…that she was gonna hurt herself. I'm gonna go tomorrow! I will, _promise_! Too much pressure!"

He clutches his hair.

Richard bangs his hand on the wall, causing his wife and son to jump, "No Tweek, I'm going to bring you to school right now! It's only lunch time, you still have half a day, I want you to go and see your friends _today_!"

Eavan leaps off the couch, "Hun, not today, please not today. Let me see my baby for one more day!"

Tweek fidgets nervously as his father yells at his mother, and she breaks into tears again. Richard grabs Tweek's hand and pulls him out of the living room. "Eavan, go take your pills. Watch some TV. Read a book. I am bringing Tweek to school and I am not negotiating this with you." He grabs Tweek's backpack and forces him out of the door.

"Mom, I love you!" He yelps as his father slams the door behind him, locking it from the outside.

Tweek follows his father towards the car, and straps himself into the passenger seat, but frowns when his father doesn't start the car. He glances at his dad, seeing him covering his eyes with his hands as he breathes slowly.

"Dad? Are you okay?" Tweek asks in a small voice, nervous of the man beside him.

He lowers his hands and stares at his son, noticing how much he looks like Eavan. "I'm sorry Tweek; I didn't mean to get angry at your mother. She doesn't understand that you're like a freshly made specialty coffee, and by her choosing to keep you at the counter, rather than to give you to the customer, not only hurts her, but it also hurts you."

Tweek doesn't understand what his father is telling him, but he forces a smile anyways, hoping he won't be mad at him and his mother anymore.

Richard sighs as he starts up the car, "I just want you to be happy, Tweek."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_An End to a Beginning_

* * *

"Hun! Mommy's going grocery shopping for a few things, do you want to come?"

Tweek is playing in his room when his mother calls him. He's used to her always calling his name, so he doesn't hesitate to abandon his toy cars and head towards the top of the stairs. He can hear the sounds of his father flipping through channels in the living room, and Tweek remembers its Saturday.

He runs down the stairs and looks at his mom, who's standing patiently at the door.

"Tweek, do you want to be mommy's special helper today?"

Tweek doesn't mention that he's mommy's special helper every day.

Tweek nods and grabs his winter coat and throws it on. His mom passes him his boots and he slides them on before sparing a glance towards his father. He gives a small wave to his dad, who nods back at Tweek.

The grocery store is only a five minute walk away, so his mother grabs Tweek's hand and they embark on their journey. His mother holds him close as she talks about a wide assortment of things, some he's heard before, like the gnomes, and others that make his eyes widen in surprise.

"Is it true that aliens have come to South Park?" Tweek gasps, looking up for any UFO's.

"Of course it is, although no one here remembers because of all the brain washings." She nods, sparing the sky a glance.

"And what about the thing you said about Taco Bell?" he asks incredibly.

"Sweetie, Taco bell is the real life version of hell on earth. It's best you never go there, and don't trust people who do, okay?" She nods her head as she opens the door to the local grocery store, telling Tweek to grab a cart on the way in.

The two maneuver their way down the first row of boxed goods, and Eavan picks up two boxes of cereal.

"Which one my little helper?"

Tweek enjoys the attention he gets by playing mommy's little helper, and he eagerly points at the yellow box. She nods and places it into the cart, before moving towards the snacks, and taking a few minutes to select four boxes, asking him once again to pick.

This process repeats until Tweek catches sight of one of the kids from school, a nice blonde boy who everyone's mean too, but he doesn't understand why. The boys' a bit of a pushover with the other kids, but Tweek has never been mean to Butters. He leaves his mother's side only for a few minutes and walks towards the boy, watching the blonde bang his knuckles together nervously.

"Hi Butters." Tweek says in a small voice, his hands clasped behind him.

Butters spins around in shock, before giving a small laugh, "O-oh hey, Tweek, you scared me, oh hamburgers. Are you doin' some shopping with your mom too?"

Tweek beams, "Yeah, I'm her special little helper."

Butters nods his head in understanding, "I'm here or else I'd get grounded."

Tweek frowns, not liking the way Butters glances hesitantly at his mother when he says the word. Tweek's never been grounded, so he doesn't exactly know what it entails, but he knows that he doesn't like it if it makes peoples like Butters miserable, and especially afraid.

Butters continues knocking his knuckles together again before looking back at his mother, "Ah Tweek, I'll see you at school okay? That is if you come…I mean I hope you do! But you should go back and help your mom; she looks like she could use a special helper right now."

Tweek waves goodbye quickly and runs back to his mother's side, gasping as he sees what Butters was referring too. Tweek glances to her face, which is void of all emotions. There are two objects in her hand. She's looking at dish soap: ones lemon, the others citrus.

"Mom, are you okay?" Tweek knows he should have been there; his mom isn't the best when it comes to making decisions.

Tweek pries the lemon dish soap from her hand and places it into the cart, and that triggers her to snap out of her trance. She wipes at her eyes and places the citrus soap back onto the shelf, giving a sad laugh, "Thank you Tweek, you really are mommy's little helper. Mommy couldn't decide, and she…" She sniffs and pushes the cart into the next aisle, not bothering to finish her sentence. They continue their shopping, her picking things and Tweek making decisions until they finally get to the cash register.

By the time they get home it's been over two hours, and although Tweek's exhausted from playing shopper, he's glad that he was able to help out his mom.

When he tells his dad about their shopping trip night after, Richard assures Tweek that he'll do the shopping from now on instead of his mother. His dad never explains why, and Tweek doesn't think to ask.

* * *

Turning the page, Tweek reads the words quickly of the book his father bought him for Christmas. It's a story about a group of kids in a town stuck inside a dome. It's one of those survival of the fittest stories. Tweek really hates this book because it terrifies him thinking kids can actually hurt and kill each other, but then again, he does know Eric Cartman. Tweek also likes the book because he's got a soft spot for romance, and it makes him wonder if there's someone special out there waiting for him.

Tweek jumps and drops his book on the floor as he hears something heavy smash onto the ground with a loud thump. Holding his breath he darts downstairs, wondering if his mother dropped something.

"Mom? Mom what are you doing on the floor?" Tweek asks as he sees her in the hallway. He drops beside her and starts shaking her nonresponsive body.

He watches her wither and feels panic overwhelm him, causing him to yank on his hair. What's happening? What's wrong with his mom? He scoots away from her, flinching every time she hisses or cries out in pain.

"Dad!" Tweek shrieks, shaking as there's no response. He must be at work; his father is always at work.

"What do I do, what do I do." He mutters to himself, before thinking that talking to her might snap her out of her trance. He presses his side against the couch as he wedges himself behind it and starts talking about the first thing that comes to mind. "M-mom, sometimes at school the kids think I'm different, a-and it's okay because they don't really know me, but sometimes I wish I didn't have to go to school at all. Some of the kids are so mean, and—and they're always talking about things like m-money and new games. And how they're dads are a-always home for dinner and their moms have jobs, and they don't get the way w-we are, or, why we do things…"

Tweek closes his eyes as he rambles, he's thinking _keep talking, keep talking_, feeling even more stressed as her sobbing gets heavier and her moans of anguish more painful.

She's getting angrier at him, and his voice is hoarse from talking for so long. His legs feel like rubber as he stands from behind the couch and grabs the house phone. His dad said that if there was ever an accident or a bad thing that he should call the police. Looking at his mother—or the growling, hissing, and sobbing thing that was supposed to be her—this qualifies as a bad thing.

The phone fumbles in his hands as he dials _911_, his breath coming out laboured and broken. Not even a second later is someone answering him.

He cuts the woman off, and almost sobs into the phone. "Help, I-I need help! My mom, she's not okay, she needs help."

"Alright, calm down and tell me what's wrong." The woman's voice is clear but soothing.

Tweek sniffles, "She's on the f-floor, my mom, and she won't get up! Is she hurt? Is she dying?" He panics.

The woman makes a sound, "I'm sending an officer and an ambulance to your house. Is there anyone else there will you?"

"N-no, my dad's at work. She's dying, she needs help," Tweek breaks into a crying fit as he curls into a ball on the floor. His mother is crying, gasping and Tweek doesn't know how to help her.

"Where does your dad work? I'm going to call him." The woman asks.

"T-Tweak Bros. Mom, mom!" Tweek drops the phone and muffles his voice as his mother starts hissing and clawing at the air, shouting at him to stay back.

The woman on the phone is still talking, but Tweek's curled into the smallest ball possible, covering his ears and sobbing into his knees. An ambulance approaches and the front door is kicked open. A medic and Officer Barbrady enter his home, and Tweek can see the two adults talking frantically. His mother continues her screaming, afraid of the strangers standing over her.

The medic grabs a needle and tries to inject it, but she thrashes violently, before he finally pins her down and injects the needle into her arm.

The medic talks to Barbrady before nodding and heading back to the ambulance to grab a stretcher, and that's when another car pulls into the driveway.

Richard darts into the house and notices his wife and son both in tears and he looks distressed.

"Mr. Tweak, your wife has been sedated, and the paramedic is going to bring her to the hospital." Barbrady rambles as the medic returns and places Mrs. Tweek onto the stretcher.

Richard watches the ambulance head towards Hell's Pass before looking at his shaking son. "Alright, thank you Officer, I'll talk to my son."

The man nods and leaves Richard to explain things to a horrified Tweek. He sits on the floor beside him and rubs the young boys back, letting him sob and shake until he calms down. Richard wonder's how he's going to explain things, thinking what would be appropriate for this kind of situation.

He moves Tweek's hands off from his ears and the boy stares up at him with those bright green eyes. "D-dad." He hiccups.

Richard holds the boys' hands, "Tweek, I know you're scared and confused. I'm going to try and explain what just happened okay? Your mom had an anxiety attack, okay champ? Sometimes she gets so overwhelmed that everything just bubbles over, like a cup filled with too much coffee. Your mother isn't always in control about how much coffee gets poured into her cup, and when it's too much she just gets stressed."

Tweek nods sadly, "Is mom broken?"

Richard winces, "No, your mom is just different. She lets different things bother her, and those can trigger her anxiety attacks. The best thing you can do is just be close to her, and say nice things, and help her empty her cup, so to speak. Do you understand me, son?"

Tweek bites his lip before giving a curt nod.

He ruffles the blonde's hair, "Alright, grab your jacket, and let's go see your mother at the hospital."

* * *

"Tweek, come here! Mommy has something to show you in the basement," Eavan calls out.

Tweek perks up from his colouring book, confused and intrigued. The basement is a place that Tweek's never been, prohibited from ever descending down the stairs. Ever since he was a little kid he's forced himself to run past the door that stuck out from under the stairs, always scared of what horrors lied beneath them.

The crayon breaking in his hand snaps him out of his day dreaming as he slowly walks towards the stairs. He doesn't trust himself, and he doesn't trust what's behind the door. Maybe he misheard basement, surly his mother couldn't have meant theirs. Just to be sure he calls out her name, and from behind the dreaded door she responds.

Taking a deep breath, he throws open the door and cowers, waiting for something to fly out and spear him. Blinking away the initial panic, he descends down the steps, holding onto the railing for dear life. He takes the stairs one at a time, the creeks echoing and making him flinch.

Once he reaches the last step, he's standing on cold concrete. The basement smells like dampness and dust, and there's a chill floating around. He tucks his hands under his arm pits and he heads towards the other side of the basement, where there's light emitting.

He stops when he sees the set up surrounding his mother, who's sitting quietly on a carpet. She motions for him to come towards her. She's made a nest for herself, using blankets, pillows, and old stuffed animals Tweek has never seen. The only illumination is from an old nightlight that's plugged into the wall. He carefully maneuvers over the wall of teddy bears and sits in his mother's lap, despite feeling like he's too old to be coddled anymore. He lets her hold him; he's still scared of the dark basement that surrounds the two of them.

"This is my safe place, sweetie, and I want it to be yours too. Whenever I get scared I come down here and sit down. I know that no one can get me here, when I'm in this circle, and when you're in the circle no one can get you either." She picks up one of the toys, a scraggly looking cat. "Everything here is from when I was a little girl. They're all important things to me. They make sure the monsters and demons stay away, the ones inside and out."

Tweek has gone tense in her grasp, his jade coloured eyes staring into her hazel ones, "M-monsters? And, and this circle stops them?"

"It's kept the monsters away ever since you were a baby. Angry, unhappy monsters that can take you over and make you into someone you're not. Make you do things you don't want to to…" She whispers, for a moment trailing off into her own thoughts. "No one can hurt your mommy when she's in her circle. No one can take away her special people. And now this is your circle too. I don't want you to ever be afraid, baby; none of the bad things can get you while you're here. "

Tweek grabs a toy dog; it looks fluffy and smells nice, and he holds it in his hands while adding a new fear to his list of things to worry over in the middle of the night. This one is of body stealing monsters. But at least now he has a defence, a special circle that will keep all the monsters and bad things away. For once he feels relieved, that a huge weight has been taken off his shoulders.

He believes the circles true because his mommy believes it too.

* * *

"One pill, two pill…" Eavan sings softly under her breath as she takes her morning medication. She no longer hide's her pills when she's in front of Tweek. For years she was scared he would judge her because of it, but now she knows that her perfect little angel loves her more than anything in the whole wide world.

Richard and Tweek are sitting at the table eating French toast.

"So champ, your birthdays in a few days, do you know what you want? Maybe a big party and a new bike?"

Tweek stops eating and glances at his mother, who gives a look of disapproval.

She grabs her cup of juice and sits down, "A big party isn't safe, especially with boy's their age. Tweek is better off staying home, oh baby we can get you a big cake and anything you want." Eavan smiles airily.

Richard stands up and places his plate into the sink, "Well I don't think it's healthy for him to stay home all the time. Tweek, I bought some tickets for the game tonight, I thought that it would be fun to watch a basketball game together.

Tweek frowns, before saying a meek okay.

"And I have another thing to show you too! Think of it as a gift." Richard beams, taking Tweek's hand and bringing him to the front door before his wife can protest. Tweek gets his winter gear on and they head towards the car, calling out goodbyes to a nervous Eavan.

He gets into the car and drives towards his work, spotting the giant brown coffee shop that's become like a second home. He parks the car and ushers Tweek inside the shop.

"This is where I work, champ, Tweak Bros. is my pride and joy and one day this will all belong to you. There's even a warehouse I bought to go along with the business, but it's out of town. That will be yours too, and then you can run the family business! Here, I want you to try this," Richard beams while moving behind the counter and fiddling with one of the machines, producing a foamy looking coffee. "Its hazelnut and caramel, I think you'll like it."

Tweek takes the beverage and nervously sipping it, before gasping and chugging it back, enjoying how it scalds his tongue and warms his insides. The start of an addiction is such innocent and petty thing.

"This is amazing!" Tweek beams, "Can I have another?"

Richard grins happily, "You can have as many as you like!"

Tweek has two more and takes one to go and Richard brings Tweek to his very first basketball game. He's made sure that he has seats pretty close to the front since this is one of the few times he's managed to pry Tweek away from Eavan. The noise and cheering terrifies Tweek, but after the first period Tweek finally manages to get into the game.

"You see, the Denver Nuggets have been playing a pretty terrible game so far, but if they can beat LA, then we can make it into the quarter finals." Richard grins while ordering a beer, and Tweek another coffee.

As the periods keep passing, Richard finishes his second beer and finally nods to Tweek to leave. "If we go now then we can beat traffic. We lost anyways, so there's no point in staying."

The two make it to the car in record time, hearing the game end and a collective groan rip through the arena. They were pretty close, but it seemed that yet again, Denver was sitting the finals out. Getting on the highway, Richard loses himself in a conversation about coffee and the Tweak Bros. business, and Tweek nods his head occasionally as he sips his cold coffee.

Richard doesn't know where the car came from, but it collides right into them and their car flips onto its side, airbags smashing into their faces and giving Richard whiplash as the car rolls into a ditch at the side of the road. Coffee and blood are everywhere as the warped car doors and broken glass pierce their skin. Tweek whines pitifully as his head smashes violently into the door, his vision swarming before he passes out.

In minutes an ambulance and tow truck arrive, and Richard is checked quickly before they focus of Tweek.

"He's got a concussion, and a major fracture. He's losing blood quickly."

Everything goes by in a blur; Richards in the ambulance with the paramedics and his dying son. Panic seizes him, cursing as he watches the medic attempt to bandage the boys head and hold it together.

He feels like he's going to throw up. If he opens his mouth he will.

The ambulance takes them to Hell's Pass, and Richard shoots a quick text to Eavan to meet him there. He doesn't have a voice to actually call her. She tells him that she's taking the neighbours car, and by the time the ambulance makes it to its destination, Eavan is waiting outside.

Eavan screams into her hands as she looks at her bloodied son, with swollen eyes and a bandaged covered skull. The medics place Tweek onto a stretcher and wheel him into the hospital. It's clear they have to piece the boy together after the crash; the nurse rolls him into the ER and to put his poor skull back together.

Richard is sobbing into his hands as he's confronted by an officer and doesn't struggle as he's arrested for a potential DUI. As he's handcuffed, Eavan falls into a chair in the waiting room, an anxiety attack racking through her body.

"Eavan, I'm so—"

She cuts Richard off, "Don't fucking talk to me."

As she watches her husband be escorted out of the hospital, Eavan prays that her baby will be okay, that the doctors will make him better.

* * *

Tweek is sitting on the couch with a look of confusion. It's Monday night and he should be doing homework from Mr. Garrison's boring class, but he never went to school today. He's been on bed rest ever since he came back from the hospital four months ago. He barely remembers the accident, or how the officers released his father a month after the incident.

Today was supposed to be his first day back to school, but instead he had spent all day in front of the television in his pajamas watching shows about a talking dog and a rabbit hat wearing boy who go on wild adventures. Tweek wonders if the reason he's staying home is because he's done something wrong; after the car accident he's not too sure about things that happened before, so maybe his parents are upset with him about something he no longer remembers.

His mother paces up and down the hallway, before looking at Tweek and smiling. He forces a smile back.

"Hun, how about you come to the kitchen and draw mommy a picture? Too much TV and your brain will turn to mush."

Tweek closes his eyes as he turns off the television, trying to feel if his brain has been affected in anyway, before determining that no, it was not turning to mush. Opening his eyes he enters the kitchen and sits down at the head of the table. There's already a marker, a piece of paper, and a coffee there waiting for him.

He grabs the beverage, and sips in gingerly. He's been surviving these past few weeks on a mostly coffee diet. He watches for a few moments as his mother pulls out a variety of vegetables, a cutting board, and her dicing knife, and starts preparing dinner.

His mother starts chopping carrots and Tweek knows his father will be home any second. Tweek can feel the tension radiating off his mother, but he chooses to ignore it and draw a picture of the hospital, something that's been constantly embedded in his mind.

The door opens and Richard walks in with a coffee in hand; Richard's eyes dare ark and swollen from lack of sleep, a result from the fighting happening between him and his wife. Eavan doesn't look at her husband as she speaks to him; she's too focused on her vegetables.

"Richard, I've decided to pull Tweek out of school. After what happened with him a few months ago I don't trust him leaving home. I've already arranged this with the school and they respect my decision to homeschool Tweek." She says curtly.

Tweek's ears perk up at the mention of his name and the fact that he had been pulled out of school. He doesn't mind it; he wasn't that good in school anyways.

"You're not pulling him out of school," Richard barks out suddenly, accidentally dropping his coffee.

She doesn't say anything, implying that the decision has already been made.

"Eavan I can't handle this anymore! Everything's getting worse, the anxiety, your behaviour, you're out of control! Your DPD is out of control! It's not healthy for you, me, and especially not Tweek!"

"I do not have Dependent Personality Disorder!" She snaps.

"Yes you do! You're sick and you need to go get help, Eavan, you need to consult a psychotherapist. The pills aren't working and your acting insane! You just pulled out son out of school without even consulting me!"

"You got my baby into a car accident!"

"That wasn't my fault!"

Tweek grits his teeth as he keeps drawing, the markers squeaking across the paper. His mother keeps chopping her vegetables, and ignoring the things coming from his father's mouth.

"Eavan, I filed for a divorce today…I'm taking Tweek with me, I suggest you get a lawyer."

The chopping stops and Tweek looks up from the paper nervously. His father is staring blankly at the counter while his mother stares directly at her husband, shock and anger on her face.

"You're not taking my baby away from me." She growls, her breaths quickening in fear.

His dad shakes his head, "I already inquired for custody; he's never going to be happy with you like this."

"You can't, that's my baby—you can't take my baby!" she gasps.

"Once you get the right help I'll let you see him, we can even eventually settle of a joint custody, but for now I think it's best you don't have anything to do with him." His dad says sadly while closing his eyes.

Tweek clutches the marker as he watches the scene in front of him. His parents were divorcing? And he wouldn't be able to see him mom anymore?

"Richard, you can't."

"Eavan, I already did it."

Tweek screams as his mother plunges her knife deep into his father's chest, causing the man's eyes to fly open and backs away from her with a shout. She pulls the knife out and breaths heavily, watching as blood soaks his button up shirt. His dad tries to cover the wound with his hands, but there's too much blood. Richard looks so angry, so scared.

Tweek can't stop screaming.

"Eavan you're fucking insane! Tweek get out of here! Call 911!" He yells, shoving his wife forcefully into the wall. Blood stains the wall where her hits it; she snaps forward and swings the knife at him again, dragging it though his arm.

"You're never fucking taking my baby! You're never taking him from me!" She shrieks, stabbing Richard a second time.

Tweek drops his marker and runs into the living room, not able to watch his parents kill each other. Looking for the house phone, he can feel his insides burning. He feels like he's going to pass out. He finds the phone between the pillows and tries to dial for the police. He cries as tears blur his vision, and his hands are shaking so badly that he can't even hold the phone without dropping it.

He screams when he sees his mother standing behind him, blood splattering her apron and matting her hair to her head. The knife is still in her hands, and it's covered to the hilt in blood.

His father's blood.

"Tweek, baby, it's okay now, the monsters gone now. Mommy made the monster go away so he can't take you." She coo's, wiping away one of her tears, but it results in her smearing blood over her face.

Tweek throws the phone at her and darts out of the living room, wondering where he can go to get away from her. He glances at the secret door under the stairs, and back at his mother. She's following him; she's going to hurt him too.

He swings the door open and flinches at the darkness, but he runs down the stairs anyways, knowing his mother is following him. He's scared—he's never been more terrified. He doesn't know where to go, where to hide. He doesn't like the basement, it makes him sick.

He sees a faint light and heads towards it, and notices a circle of soft things, pillows and toys, and heads towards it. For some reason this feels safe. He doesn't know where the feeling of safety came from, but he gets into the circle anyways, holding himself and praying that she doesn't get him.

He cries out when her face is illuminated by the night light. She stops a little before him, and he watches her with so much fear. He worries that the circle won't be able to keep her out. He thinks he remembers it's supposed to keep the bad things out and his mom is a bad thing now.

The knife in her hand is all he can look at, and how it's shaking just as much as he is. Is she going to kill him too? Stab him just like she did to his father? The images make him sick, and he throws up in the circle, quietly crying as she takes a step towards him.

"Mommy loves you Tweek, please, please tell mommy that you still love her." She sobs, getting down onto her knees. She crawls her way over to him, but doesn't dare to enter the safe circle.

She clutches the knife tighter.

_Say no. You don't love her. You hate her, she's a killer. She should kill herself. You hate her, say it!_

Tweek's eyes widen as he looks around, wondering what that was. Was that him? Were those his thoughts? Or, or maybe his conscience? He clutches his arms, opening his mouth but no words come out.

"Tweek, mommy's waiting!" She says almost hysterically.

_Say it! I hate you, I hate you._

"I-I hate you." He hisses is confusion.

His mother gasps, "B-baby, you don't mean that. You love mommy, don't you?"

_Kill yourself. Tell her to kill herself just like she killed your father. Just like how she's going to kill you. _

Sobs escape Tweek as he covers his face, "I hate you! You killed dad!"

_She's a monster. _

"Y-You're a monster. I don't love you." He wails.

Eavan screams as she cries, one hand clutching her head, tugging on her hair, while the other holds the knife. Tweek covers his mouth as she drives the weapon into her own chest, watching blood stream out of the stab wound and onto the floor, entering the circle. She falls to the ground, withering in pain as she has another anxiety attack, or maybe she's having a seizure, he doesn't know.

"I'm not a monster, baby, not a monster…" she whispers pitifully to herself before going silent.

Tweek's frozen to his spot in fear, his vision cloudy as struggles just to breath. His mother is dead, she's dead. He needs to call the police; he needs to check if his father is still alive, he wants to run as far from this place as he possibly can.

_Shh, just close your eyes. It's better this way. Deep breaths, good, now relax._

"Who are you," hisses Tweek to an empty basement.

_She was a monster. And she was trying to kill you, but you made the monster die first. Close your eyes, and stop crying like a baby. Don't be fucking pathetic like your father. _

"Who are you?!" Tweek screams, rocking back and forth.

The rocking continues throughout the night, the smell of blood and vomit becoming obsolete to his senses. Tweek only knows its morning because light creeps through the cracks of wood covered windows.

A faint banging on the door barely rings in Tweek's mind, because now he can see his mother's body in the light, she's on her side facing him. Her eyes are dull and empty; it's almost scary to think how those same eyes had been staring pleadingly at him almost twelve hours ago. Two people walk up to him, but he doesn't see their faces, or blue uniforms, or realize that they're holding guns. His eyes stay glued to his mothers. Wondering when she became this.

Tweek closes his eyes as the stranger's converse above him.

"Get an ambulance, and open up an investigation. There's been an accident."


	3. Chapter 3

Part 2

Chapter 3

_Trauma_

* * *

"What's your name?" The officer asks, sitting across the young blonde in an interrogation room.

"T-Tweek." He whispers, closing his eyes.

"I'm going to ask you what happened. I know it's hard, but you need to tell me what you remember, alright?" The woman asks gently, looking away from the sniffling boy.

Tweek doesn't want to recall what happened, it's like his mind has blocked him from remembering. But he doesn't want to make the officer mad, he wants to tell her what happened, but it makes him want to throw up, yank his hair out, and cry like a baby.

"M-My parents are…_dead_." He hisses, hating the way it sounds on his tongue. It's a complete blur in his mind. Two days ago was he living a happy, normal life, one with two parents who adored him, and now they were gone. "They were fighting…dad…he didn't want me to stay with m-mom anymore."

"Do you know why your father wanted to take you away?"

Flinching, Tweek tugs lightly at his shirt, "H-he said that mom was…sick. A-and needed help."

"What happened after your father told your mother that?"

_He was stabbed to death. Oh the sight was blissful, don't you think? Have you ever seen blood that dark before?_

Tweek feels a sob escape him as he covers his eyes with his hands, trying to stop the images from bombarding him. "There was blood, and s-screaming, dad was hurt and mom was s-so angry. She's going to hurt me!"

He still remembers how intimidating his mother had looked standing over him with her bloodied knife, ready to hurt him. How the air was laced with a metallic tang.

Tweek falls of his chair as he screams, pushing himself up against the far wall, "Mommy, mommy don't hurt me. Don't kill me. I need my c-circle. My special circle." He shakes, fear making his hands clammy.

The officer quickly stands up, but Tweek keeps babbling, "They were going to get d-divorced. Mom was so shocked she snapped and…and now—I saw her dead body. She cried and then she was dead. Make it stop…" he moans.

The woman moves around the desk and bends down, getting to eye level. "Tweek, I need you to be strong. I know it hurts but I need to know these things."

"H-how did you find me? How did the police know?" Tweek asks with a shudder.

"Your father was able to make it to the front door, as well as open it, before finally collapsing onto the porch…he didn't make it, but the next morning a neighbour saw him and called us. That's when our officers found you. It was…unexpected and truly devastating. I know you want to forget what happened, but need you to clarify a few final things for me Tweek. Who was the one who killed your father?"

"Mom, mom, mom…"

The officer stands up, "And who was the one who killed your mother?"

Tweek flinches, peering up at her with teary eyes. The answer was an obvious one, wasn't it?

"S-she did it…to herself."

The rooms' door opens and a woman from child services in a black suit enters.

"Thank you Tweek, you helped me a lot. This nice lady is going to lead you out of here okay?" The officer says solemnly while offering a weak smile as a woman approaches Tweek and places a hand on his shoulder. They walk through the lobby, his eyes downcast as his surroundings a blur.

_They're looking at you with pity, do you see it? Some won't even spare you a glance. Victim, you're a victim is what they're thinking. Poor boy, his mother must have been insane, and his father, he must have been abusive. That poor little boy is going to be fucked up for the rest of his life. You're that fucked up boy. You're just another one of life's casualties. _

Tweek cries as he's led out of the police station by social services and into the scary black car.

_Don't worry kiddo; at least you'll always have me._

Tweek sobs harder, thinking he'll never be free of this goddamn voice.

* * *

"What's your name?" A psychologist in red asks, sitting across the young blonde in his office.

"T-Tweek." He whispers, sinking lower in his chair.

"Hello Tweek. I'm going to ask you a few questions today, and we're going to have a little chat. You can tell me anything you like, but essentially this is going to be a nice, stress free day. Don't think of me as a doctor, but as someone who wants to get to know you. So why don't you tell me about yourself?" The man asks with a fake smile.

"I, ugh, I…I've been living at this p-place for a few weeks and it's been fine…The people there are okay and there's food and stuff…Do I really have to talk?"

The man nods, "It's a good idea, talking leads to healing, as my colleges use to say."

Tweek picks at the buttons on his shirt, "The orphanage is a scary place, and I hate it. I don't like new places. I don't know how to talk to the other kids there, a-and everyone looks at me…with such sad eyes and I know why they do it…it's because of my…mom, isn't it? That's why I'm here right? You don't care about me, you just want to t-talk about m-my m-mom and d-dad."

Tweek refuses to cry. He won't. He spent the first week in bed at the orphanage grieving. He's cried for so long he doesn't think he has anymore tears left to spare.

The doctor leans back in his seat, his smile faltering, "In a way, I am here to talk to you about that event in your life. I want to be able to help you, but I also want you to be comfortable with me. This won't work if you feel like you're forced to share things."

"I don't want to talk about my…parents…killing each other today. I know what I saw was bad, and the nightmares I have about it are worse. But I can't talk about it. Not today." Tweek whispers, feeling distraught.

"That's understandable, but we do have an hour together, so why don't you tell me about the kids at the orphanage?"

Tweek opens his mouth and rambles about anything he can think of, no matter how insignificant. He talks about the few kids he's seen who are his age, how the coffee there isn't as good as the one he use to have at home, he talks about the homeschooling program they have at the orphanage, and briefly mentions the British boy he's forced to share a room with.

He doesn't talk about the scary voice inside his head; he doesn't know what to do about the voice. This man is a doctor, but Tweek doesn't want to say anything to him, it might not be a good idea. Tweek knows that even when the voice isn't talking it's always listening, and that scares him.

Tweek shudders as the voice lazily chuckles, as if it can hear Tweek's thoughts.

Then again, it probably can.

* * *

The orphanage smells faintly like cleaning products and old; if old had a smell it would be wet and kind of bitter. Running his hands over the worn wall's, Tweek silently treads down the hallway and heads towards the kitchen area. He's finally managed to learn the layout of this place, even though he doesn't venture through the hallways once it's nighttime. Tweek spends most of his nights curled under his sheet's watching the rise and fall of his sleeping roommate's chest and watching the darkness to make sure nothing appears and hurts them.

As soon as the first crack of sunlight breaks through the rooms' window, Tweek is dressed and out of bed, hurrying towards the kitchen to get himself his morning coffee. He once asked one of the staff members to invest in an electric coffee maker, but as usual, he was told no.

One time they told him to drink tea.

Tweek Tweak does not like tea.

Grabbing the coffee mix, Tweek fills his mug with hot water from an electric kettle, and starts scooping the mix into his glass. The can says to add two to three scoops, but Tweek likes the bitter and hard taste that comes with five scoops.

Sometimes when no one's looking he'll skip breakfast and just shove a spoonful of the insta-coffee into his mouth, letting the flavor stain his taste buds.

Stirring the coffee, he places the spoon quietly into the sink and takes a seat at one of the tables. It's probably around six am, the staff members start work around seven, and the tutors come into the building at eight to start the homeschooling process.

So this is the real alone time Tweek gets in an entire day. Even the voice is too tired to bug him at this hour. Tweek freezes as he watches inky black bugs crawl out of his coffee, and onto his hands. The scald his skin, leaving red burn marks as they try to borough underneath his flesh.

His breathing quickens as he tries to let go of the mug, realizing his hands are locked around it painfully. He whimpers as he feels his hands being eaten alive, the sensation painful.

Someone plucks the mug out of his hands, and brushes the bugs from his skin, grabbing his hands tightly. Tweek tries to pull his hands towards himself in fear as he looks up at the concerned face of his roommate, but the stranger doesn't let go.

"Twick, what are you doing?" the boy asks lowly, placing the cup down and rubbing the bite marks on Tweek's hands. "You hurt yourself pretty badly. This is going to blister too…"

"The bugs did it, they were eating my skin…" he spits out, and as an afterthought he mumbles, "Tweek. Not Twick."

The boy nods his head, light blonde hair bouncing as he does. "My name's Philip, but I've also been called Pip. Wait one second." He dashes off towards the bathroom, and Tweek glances at his hands more cautiously, noticing that there are no bite marks, but rather just red burns.

Pip returns holding rubber gloves and some kind of burn cream. He smother's Tweek's hand's in the weird smelling ointment and then puts the gloves on Tweek's shaking hands.

The blonde gives a sweet smile, "There you go. I was watching you for a little bit, I'll admit. I was surprised when you started shaking, and you were spilling coffee all over your hands. I don't think you knew you were burning yourself…" he mumbles to himself.

"They were bugs…" Tweek whimpers, not even believing himself.

Pip sits down beside him, "And I believe you."

"You do? But you saw…you didn't see any bugs. Only I see bugs." He growls, balling his hands into fists and feeling the ointment drip down his arms. He's angry at himself for being so different. Why can't he just be normal? What the hell's wrong with him?

He deflates when he feel's Pip's hands on his shoulders, and stares into the blonde's clear blue eyes. "Don't be sad, Tweek. Sometimes our eyes work a little funny, sometime our brains, but that's okay. You might see bugs and I might not, but that doesn't mean your any less of a person."

Tweek slaps Pip's hand away angrily, "You don't mean that, how could you? I don't even know you." he sniffs, "I'm just…I'm just a fuck up!"

Pip bites his lip nervously, looking away, "I know we haven't spoken before, and it's hard to trust a new face…but I've been curious about you. You look like a nice lad. Your always awake when I go to sleep, and when I wake up your already in here drinking your coffee. You don't like talking to the other kids because you don't like pity, not because you're antisocial…I think you just need a friend."

Tweek tries to keep eye contact with Pip, but there are glowing eyes popping out of the walls and they cause him to shake nervously.

Pip looks in the direction Tweek is and stands up. He rests his hand against the wall, "Tweek what are you seeing? There's just a wall here, but what do you thinks here?"

Tweek uncurls his hands, "E-eyes, lots of eyes. Wall's don't have eyes." He sobs.

Pip walks over and hands the mug back to Tweek, giving a little smile, "Your right, Tweek. Walls don't have eyes, they have _ears_."

Tweek blinks in surprise, confused if that was a joke or if the Britt was seeing things as well.

"Why don't you just go away…?" Tweek says, "All the other kids just went away and you will too…"

"We're roommates Tweek! And roomies stick together." He beams and his smile actually looks genuine. "And I'm going to be there for you, because that's what friends do."

Tweek pulls at the hem of his shirt nervously, "I…I'd like that."

"I'd have hoped you would! Well you enjoy the rest of your breakfast, I'm going to titter back to our room and aim for another hour of sleep. Nighty…" Pip says with a yawn as he treks out of the kitchen and back down the hallway.

He watches the blondes back until he's finally out of sight, and returns back to sipping his mug thoughtfully. Maybe being here wouldn't be so bad with someone like Pip around. Maybe the boy could actually help him with his problem and help him to become…normal.

Finishing his coffee he places it into the sink and considers heading back to the room and getting some sleep. He hasn't slept in over forty eight hours and he feels like he's treading through water when he moves.

His eyes fall closed as he stumbles down the hallway, eyelids becoming heavy as lead.

Tweek gasps as someone knocks into him, causing him to ricochet into the wall. Opening his eyes he glares at a tall boy staring down at him smugly.

_Are you just going to take that, wimp? Shove that bitch back._

It looks like the voice has finally woken up.

The blonde boy with thick curly locks looks at Tweek before rolling his eyes, "Look out for where you're going, you stupid bloke."

Tweek ignores the voice inside his head and does the opposite of what it tells him, which is leaving the rude blonde alone rather than starting a shoving war. Tweek smiles to himself and returns back to the room he shares with Pip, or should he say his new friend.

As he finds his way into his bed, for once he's calm and ready to succumb to sleep. He won't worry about monsters coming from the dark for a few more hours. Instead, he finds himself unconscious as soon as his head hit's the pillow.

Pip opens a single eyes and smiles approvingly at his sleeping roommate.

* * *

"Hey punk," A voice snaps, breaking Tweek out of his crying fit. He hates feeling so emotional, but he's sick of seeing kids constantly point him out and throw him weary glances.

"What do you want Gregory." Pip asks quietly, rubbing his hand on Tweek's back.

Gregory smiles as if he has the entire world in his hands, like a little prince speaking to his lowly peasants.

"I'm not talking to you, twat," he growls, flicking Tweek in the forehead, "I'm talking to Twitch over here."

Tweek growls, "That's not my name." he looks up at the curly haired blonde who's standing in neon orange. It makes his nose crinkle in dislike as he wipes his tears away.

"What a child, why don't you try and be a man for once." Gregory says smugly.

Tweek slowly stands, staring into Gregory's clear green eyes, "I am a man."

"How can you be a man if you're constantly a crying and babbling mess? It's a pathetic spectacle to witness." Gregory chides, "You can't expect to wallow in your misery forever, every one faces hardships, you need to grow up and move on."

"How could you say such a thing?" Pip snaps, "He's gone through a traumatic experience, you can't expect him to be anything less than upset."

Gregory rolls his eyes, "Twitch needs to learn that pity is a fickle thing. No one will remember what happened to him once the news stops broadcasting it; he's already another statistic! He was thrown into an orphanage just like the rest of us! The quicker he realizes he's alone in the world, the easier things will be."

Tweek shakes at the words knowing how true they are. He's known it all along, that he's alone and he always will be.

"Tweek don't you listen to him. There are going to be people who will care for you, and love you, and want the best for you. These people will be your friends, your mentors, your rocks. But you need to let people get close to you, and you need to love yourself first." Pip whispers, determination in his voice, "you can't let people like Gregory upset you because they're bitter with their own lives."

"I'm not bitter! I'm absolutely content with myself. I'd practically call myself a narcissist." Gregory boasts.

Pip rolls his eyes, "And I'm sure you truly believe yourself."

"How about you stop speaking for Twitch and let the man speak for himself." He grins, "I've got a proposition for you."

Tweek crosses his arms stubbornly, waiting for the boy to continue.

Gregory fiddles with his gloves nonchalantly and smirks, "I want you to head out of the orphanage, head towards the nearest convenience store, and bring to me a six pack of ale."

"He's not stealing you booze, Gregory." Pip snaps, "Out of the question."

"Why, does Twitch not have the balls to do it? I thought he was a man? I suppose he lied."

Tweek bites the inside of his cheek, glaring at the arrogance coming from Gregory.

_You're a coward. The brat with the head of curly pube hairs is right. You don't have the balls to do anything out of your comfort zone. Might as well crawl back to bed and wait for your mind to rot. You're pathetic really, but we already knew that. _

"I'll do it." Tweek finds himself saying.

"Tweek you don't have to prove anything to anyone, especially not people who say rude things to you and call you names." Pip tries convincing him, but he knows Tweek's mind is set.

Tweek wastes no time grabbing a hooded sweater and grabbing his running shoes. Escaping is the easy part, considering Tweek is able to wedge his small body through his room's window effortlessly. Pip and Gregory watch him scale the wall and drop to the ground without a sound.

"Be careful." Pip whispers, watching Tweek walk down the dark street in the direction of his prize.

He knows this is stupid, and he shouldn't be stealing things to gain acceptance from people like Gregory, but Tweek wants to prove to himself that he's capable of doing it. That the voice was wrong and he isn't pathetic.

The glowing letters let him know that he's made it to his destination, and his heartbeat quickens in anticipation. He wants to be quick, right in and right out. Placing his hood on Tweek darts inside the building, keeping low to the ground and using the shelves as cover. The worker is speaking in hushed tones to another customer, arguing about cigarettes and the age you need to be to get them.

Tweek spots the pile of beers sitting on the floor and grabs the handle, testing the weight. Taking a deep breath, he picks up the six-pack and turns on his heel, dashing out the front of the convenience store and heading back towards the orphanage. He can hear yelling behind him, but the darkness that comes with night is enough to mask Tweek's presence, and he loses his pursuer in minutes.

Tweek stares up at the wall leading to his bedroom window, wondering how he'll managed to get up there without hurting himself or dropping the heavy six pack in the process.

He blinks in surprise as the window clicks open and a rope made of bed sheets flies out, almost hitting him in the face. Giving a small smile, he grabs onto the makeshift rope and climbs quickly up the wall, the cold cans making his arms cold.

Once he reaches the top Pip pulls him in, and yanks the bed sheets in after him.

Gregory smirks as Tweek hands him the six-pack while staring defiantly at the smug boy.

"I'm impressed, Twitch, I didn't think you'd be able to pull it off." He pulls out a can and tosses it to Tweek. "Here you go, think of this as an award for your valiant success. You're not such a pussy after all—still psychotic though."

_What a polite and well-mannered little fuck._

Tweek scowls and pockets the can, watching Gregory walk out of the room without another word.

"Just because you're bitter for not being adopted yet doesn't give you the right to call him psychotic, Gregory. Once you change your repugnant attitude perhaps you'll be better liked." Pip gives a shocked Gregory a final nasty look before closing the door behind the curly haired blonde.

Tweek glances over his shoulder and stares blankly at the Pip, whose face is uncharacteristically bunched up in anger. Pip snaps out of his trance when he notices he's being looked at and places a hand on Tweek's shoulder, squeezing gently.

"I don't like what you did, but I think beating Gregory at his own game was good for you. You're no coward, Tweek."

It's only later that night, when Tweek is lying awake in his bed and staring at Pip's sleeping form, does he come to the realization that Pip might just be his first true friend.

* * *

"Good morning Tweek, how about you take a seat. Would you like a juice box or a snack? Perhaps a fruit?" The sugary sweet voice of his psychologist causes Tweek to flinch.

"N-no thanks…"

"How have you been these last few months? How are you adjusting to the orphanage?" The man asks while pulling out a blue folder and reading through the notes.

Tweek stares blankly at the man, refusing to answer.

"Alright Tweek, so what happened in the Common Room last week? We need to talk about it this time. What do you remember?"

Tweek frowns, hating the feelings that come back to him from that night.

"I thought I saw my mother and I wanted to get away." He says angrily, but he doesn't know if it's at the doctor or at himself.

"You are well aware now that the individual you were attacking was not your mother, correct?"

He huffs and looks away in shame, "Yes I know that it wasn't really my mother."

"The little boy you hurt had to get his arm stitched up because of you. Violent behavior isn't tolerated here at the orphanage. I'm going to have to run a few tests on our next session, but for now we're going to be putting you on a pill to help with the anxiety and stop you seeing crazy things that aren't there. How does that sound?"

Tweek doesn't say anything, instead biting his lip.

"Well, now that we have that established why don't you tell be about Phillip?"

Tweek blinks. "My roommate is really nice. He's smart too, and…he doesn't look at me the way the other kids do."

The doctor nods his head as he jots something down in a file. "Well that's fantastic to hear Tweek, I'm glad you're making social connections with some of the boys here."

A staff member walks into the room and glances at the man, "Doctor, can we have a word?"

The man nods, "Tweek give me a moment to discuss something, will you?"

Tweek stays silent as the two adults step out. He fidgets in his seat, thinking about all the months he's been in this place, and how many more there will be. Usually kids get adopted after a month or two…but Tweek knows that no one wants to adopt the murderers' son. That makes him seethe in his seat, especially now.

Who the hell did the doctor think he was just telling him that he saw crazy things.

A certain bottle catches his attention, and it has his name on it. He pops it open and looks into the container at the crisp little white pills. He grits his teeth and grabs another bottle, dumping some pills into it and stuffing it into his pocket before placing the bottle with his name back on the desk.

The doctor wants him to take his pills, he'll take them alright.

The man walks back into the room and smiles sweetly, "So Tweek, anything else you want to tell me? Any other issues?"

"T-there's this…voice…in my head." Tweek swallows harshly, trying to sound pathetic.

_Aw, breaking my cover already? And I didn't even have a chance to finish my fun. _

The doctor sits up a little straighter, his brows furrowing. "A voice inside your head, you say? How often do you hear it?"

Biting his lip he shrugs, "Enough to know it's there."

The doctor makes a quick note of it in his file, before firing off another question. "When this voice speaks to you, is it a nice and happy voice, or is it a mean and angry voice."

"Mean and angry. And sometimes it sounds nice…but it's really just making fun of me."

_How bland. I'd say my voice is better compared to a cool drink on a hot summer's day. Smooth and crisp to the touch, like liquid gold. It's a smothering type of noise that chokes whoever is unlucky enough to hear it. By which I mean you, obviously, my dear little Twitch. _

The doctor frowns, "Is the voice talking to you now Tweek? What's it saying?"

"It's telling me that it doesn't like the way I described its voice. It doesn't like me…" Tweek fumbles, willing the voice to shut up. This is the first time he's ever spoken to an adult about the voices. Only Pip really knew about the nasty things the voice constantly said to Tweek about himself and everyone around.

_Tell the nice man that he's a fucking tool, looking at you like he's actually telling you anything substantial. Ask him how long it's been since he's been laid, if ever._

The man notices how Tweek frowns. "What's the voice saying now?"

Tweek looks away in embarrassment, "It wants to know the last time you were…laid."

The doctor growls, clearly not amused with the comment. "When did you start hearing this voice? Was it before the accident?"

Tweek shakes his head. He only remembers hearing the voice after he saw his mother's dead body.

"Can I get rid of it?" Tweek snaps, grabbing his head, "I want it gone. I want it gone!"

The doctor stands up from his desk and moves around it so he can stand in front of Tweek. "I'm going to talk to some of the nurses and I think I can put you on a medicine that will make the voice go away, the scary things too."

"Am I sick? Am I psychotic?" Tweek whispers.

The doctor doesn't say anything, "I'll prescribe you the new medication and when I meet with you next month we can discuss if the voice is still there."

Tweek nods his heads, a feeling of joy bubbling in his chest at the thought of having the voice disappear for good. No more hearing the whispers in the back of his mind. No more arguments with his own mind. No more looking crazy to the other kids who give him dirty looks in the orphanage. Maybe Gregory would start thinking he was a normal boy, and he wouldn't always need to be defended from the brash blonde.

The doctor perches at the end of his desk, his arms crossed lazily at his chest. He waits for a moment for Tweek to pay attention, before nodding his head. "I was told to tell you what was happening next week. I waited until the last possible minute to say something because I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to bring it up. There's a funeral coming up, for your parents, Tweek. Would you like to attend?"

The air escapes Tweek as if he received a blow to the stomach.

They spend so many weeks not talking about his parents that Tweek's almost forced himself to forget the events of that night.

Clenching his hands he looks away from the doctor he doesn't like and rocks in his seat. He feels ill thinking about it, or what people will say about his parents.

_What's wrong? Don't tell me you're scared of a little funeral. Is it because your parents are going to be there, because you don't have to worry about them; they're dead. Dead, dead, dead! _

"I'll go." Tweek hisses, "But I want to bring…something."

_Oh do you now? You should bring your dearest mother some carrots._

Tweek grits his teeth as the voice laugh's obnoxiously, causing him to cringe. The doctor gives Tweek what's supposed to be a supportive smile.

"I'm glad you would like to go. You're taking steps to learning how to cope after a traumatic experience. You're on the road to rehabilitation. What would you like to bring to the funeral? I'm sure it can be arranged, whatever it is."

Tweek stands up and shoves his hands deep into his pockets, taking a deep breath and then spitting the words out before he can take them back.

"I want to bring Pip."

* * *

"Lord, you are our father and the provider of mercy and comfort. It is to you who we look for with compassion, and thus we place our trust into you. Bless all those gathered here now, and have mercy on the souls of those who have departed." Father Maxi preaches at the front of the church.

Tweek is standing in the back of the building, hidden from view in one of Pip's oversized red jackets. The British boy is standing beside him, his eyes on the two caskets at the front of the church.

"It is known that almost everyone has been touched by travesty, but it today that we come to speak of a truly devastating tale. We all gather here to pay our respects to the deceased Richard Tweak, and Eavan Tweak. It is not for certain how the events of their lives had unfolded, or what occurred behind closed doors, but an unfortunate even did happen which led to a brash ending."

Understatements, all of it.

Tweek hates this, hates having to hear the priest preach about his family as if he knew them.

Father Maxi continues addressing the crowd.

"It is also difficult for anyone to point blame at either of these individuals," he says, "mental illness is a disease that arises with its own struggles, and in this case it led to the end of a family. As God's creatures, he calls us to assist one another. If the proper help was given to this family, then perhaps two of God's children would not be lying here before us. They not only left a town, but a son who will have to find himself through this hardship and seek the will of our lord."

Maxi just had to mention him.

Tweek shudders as he tries to keep his breathing steady. He never imagined so many people would be here. Almost most of the town is standing in the congregation. There are TV cameras and news reporters standing around recording the mass.

_They don't care about your parents. To everyone in this god awful state your parents are just the crazy couple. Your story is only known by its two murders in a middle class home, and a son who was found devastated in the basement covered in blood, and no real explanation as to what happened. The only word they have is what you, the mentally unstable son, told them. The media is eating the Tweak family up. They don't care for you, they only care about how fucked up you are; imagine if they knew you could hear voices in your head! How crazy would that be? _

Tweek wants the voice to stop. Why now, why at his parents funeral?

_You might be able to get a movie deal after all this. _

Whimpers break out from the petite blonde, and Pip coo's in support as he wraps his arm around Tweek's shoulder. Tweek buries his face in the crook of Pip's neck as he sobs quietly, the anger at the media making his family look like a means of entertainment and the emotional stress of repressing that day finally overwhelms him.

Pip rubs his back in soothing circles at the Priest continues, blessing the coffins and allowing strangers who knew Tweek's parents say a word. As long as Pip keeps whispering supportive words into his ear, Tweek thinks he can be okay. He clutches his arms around Pip's middle, hugging the boy closer to him, ignoring the stares he's receiving from the people around them.

"I'm so sorry Tweek, I'm so sorry." Pip repeats, feeling the boys tears soak into his shoulder.

He knew it was right to bring Pip. Tweek doesn't know how he could have done it, attended his parents funeral, without the supportive blonde by his side.

"Can we leave? I don't think I can stay here any longer." Tweek asks gently, pulling away.

Pip gives a sweet smile and wipes the tears from Tweek's cheeks, "Of course we can. You were very strong for being here, and I appreciate you bringing me."

Tweek offers a small nod as he exits the booth, blinking as he feel's Pip's hand curl around his own. He gives a real smile and holds onto it tightly as Pip leads him towards the car where a staff member from the orphanage is waiting outside for them.

* * *

Tweek was sitting on the floor beside Pip the moment he saw his mother walk into the common room. She has a sweet smile on her face and a bounce in her step. She's humming under her breath as she observes the playing children, before her eyes fell onto him.

"Oh baby! Mommy's missed you so much."

Tweek grabs a book and throws it in her direction, "Go away." He hisses, clutching his face. "I'm seeing things."

Pip grabs his hand and pulls it away from his face, "What is it? What's there?"

"Baby don't you miss me?" Eavan sobs, holding herself. "It's been so long, and I'm so lonely."

He grits his teeth, "My mother."

Eavan looks hurt at the way he spits out that word.

She reaches a hand out to him, "Come on sweetie, mommy's going to take you out of this place."

"Tweek wait, that's—!" Pip yelps.

Tweek jumps to his feet and launches at the figure of his mother, "You're not real! You're dead!" He lashes his hand out at the figure, and bites back a scream as it connects with flesh.

"You bastard!" Eavan hisses as she clutches her swelling cheek. She tries to grab Tweek, but he throws himself to the ground.

How could he feel flesh, she's not supposed to be alive? He saw her die. He saw her bleed.

_What if that was a lie? What if she was alive that entire time? _

He has to get rid of her. She's going to kill him.

Tweek crashes into a table, dodging the liquid shadows on the floor that follow him and hiss like snakes. One touches his leg and a sharp pain cuts though his calf, causing him to yelp. He grabs a handful of scissors and whips them towards his mother; he doesn't understand. The things he sees he can't feel. This is wrong—_this is wrong_!

Eavan shrieks one of the scissors cut's open the skin on her arm, "Baby, what are you doing!"

Pip tackles Tweek to the floor, pinning his arms down, "Tweek stop! That's not your mother! That's Gregory goddamnit!"

_Kill her! If you don't she'll kill you!_

He kicks the small Brit in the chest and grabs a chair, "I'll kill her! She's going to kill me if I don't! You're supposed to be dead!"

Eavan backs into a corner, her eyes widen in shock. "He's crazy! He's insane! You're a goddamn fucking psycho!" She cowers as Tweek whips a chair in her direction, watching it crash into the wall, barely missing her head.

Pip tries grabbing him, but Tweek narrowly escapes. His hearts pounding in his chest as he dashes down the hallway, crying out as the walls seem to be getting closer together, trying to crush him. Hisses and growls come from behind him, and he pushes himself to run faster. He needs to get outside.

_They're coming to get you, you're not fast enough._

"Don't touch me!" He screams while leaping through a doorway, avoiding being flattened. The outside is worse somehow. Needles pop out from the ground and dig into his feet, causing the soles to bleed as he runs towards a flat looking service. Movement beside him terrifies Tweek, and he dives towards the sweet black ground, feeling safe here.

A monster's hand is on him, trying to cut through his skin.

Its pulls him away from his warm spot and back onto the needle like surface, torturing him.

He sobs into his hands as he feels himself being dragged back into that hell, back towards his mother, back towards everything he hates.

* * *

"One pill, two pill," he sings to himself quietly as he grabs his bottle of Benzodiazepine from the boys' communal washroom. He had stolen it from his therapist the week before and had hid it in the septic tank ever since so no one would be able to find it. There was also a can of beer hidden his mattress, another preparation for tonight; the label on his pills did say not to mix with alcohol.

_So you know how to read, congratu-fucking-lations. _

He rattles the container, giving a sad smile. It will be enough. He returns back to his cot in the room he shares with Pip. He actually likes the English boy; he's sweet, a little naïve, but he put up with Tweek's tantrums.

He feels slightly guilty that Pip will be the one waking up to his dead body.

_His screams would please me immensely. Smother him with that pillow, it'll be quick. His death will be far more satisfying than yours. _

"Red pill, blue pill," Tweek whispers as he unscrews the cap, dumping the contents into his hands. There are eight pills; these will hopefully do the job. He throws them back, almost choking. He reaches under his mattress and grabs the warm can, his heart pounding in his ears. He waits a bit before opening it, convincing himself that this is what he wants.

It is.

The crack of popping the can open wakes up Pip, who looks up at him groggily.

"Tweek?" he says.

"Go back to bed." Tweek mutters, chugging the beer back. He wants to get this done as quickly as possible.

_You think this is going to work? Drink faster, amuse me._

Tweek lowers the empty can, his vision swimming dangerously. He collapses onto the bed, the pill bottle rolling off the covers and onto the floor. Pip glances at it before jumping out of bed.

"Tweek did you take all of these? Where did you even get pills?" he hisses.

"Go'sleep," he slurs.

Tweek feels his body convulse, wondering if he's having a seizure, based on all the pinpoints of light assaulting his vision. There's a deep burning in his chest, and then he's on the floor, and Pip's yelling, shaking his body. Who knew medicine could make him feel so bad? Everything inside of him hurts. He feels his mouth being pried open and fingers pressing against the back of his throat. Tweek can't stop himself from vomiting all over the floor, shaking as he realizes that Pip's trying to stop him from killing himself.

"Tweek, Tweek, don't do this, don't let this beat you. You can't kill yourself you just can't!" Pip sobs, and Tweek lashes out at him.

His fist connects with the older boy's cheek, and they're both on the floor now. Pip's trying to pin him down, and Tweek's frozen in fear as Pip's blue eyes glow a bloody red, and his teeth elongate like a demons.

"This isn't real, not real!" Tweek garbles as he grabs onto the demon's throat and tries killing it.

_You shoulda killed him weeks ago! Destroy him! Break his neck!_

His nails bite into the demon's skin, drawing blood as he smashes its head into the tile floor. Its giant spike filled mouth is open in a silent scream as it tries to suck air into its lungs. The monster doesn't even struggle, and that makes Tweek squeeze tighter as the colour drains from the creatures face.

"You should have let me die! Let me die!" Tweek screams, withering around, "Kill it—kill the monster! There's one inside of me!"

Someone's hands are on him and he's forcefully yanked off of the demon, whose reverted back in his human form, his clenched hands releasing its throat. Tweek screams as he feels something hard hit his head as he's slammed onto the floor. Tears blur his vision as the smell of vomit burns his nose, and the metallic taste of medicine and blood appear, he knows he's torn up his insides.

A needle pushes into his neck as someone shouts over him, calling the authorities. Pip's face is all he can look at. He did that, he killed him. He's being dragged away by the workers and he can see all eyes on him. He doesn't even know what's real anymore, everything shifts before his eyes.

Gregory's standing there at the end of the hallway as pale as a ghost before growing claws and sprouting spikes, his skin melting off him and forming a puddle. The staff around are growing to ten feet tall, their giant hands like shackles around his arms. He struggles to run away, to get free. He needs to die, that was the whole point, to kill the monster inside.

Tweek only wanted to kill himself.

He didn't want Pip dead.

He didn't want to be a burden any longer; he didn't want to be that fucked up kid.

Tweek only wanted to kill himself, but he is still alive.

The monster inside him can only laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

_Parallels_

* * *

"What's your name?" A scary man who introduced himself as Sargent Yates snaps, sitting across the young blonde in an interrogation room.

"You already know it." Tweek mutters, looking away.

Yates lurches to his feet, smashing his hands angrily on the table. "I don't know who the fuck you think you're dealing with here kid, but I'm not going to put up with your bullshit."

"I don't want to be here!" Tweek screams, yanking on the handcuffs that kept him chained to the table.

A crack of laughter escapes the man, "You don't want to be here, is that what you just said? Do you know what you did? Or is it still sinking in? You're a murderer, brat; you belong in a jail, locked in a cell with other pieces of shit just like you."

The words are acid in Tweek's ears, searing into his brain. "I didn't want to kill him. I didn't know." He pleads, "Jesus Christ, you have to believe me."

"Do you know what it's like to have your esophagus crushed? Do you know what it feels like to choke to death and feel the life being ripped out of you without being able to stop it? Tell me, what was going through your head when you decided to swallow eight high quality pills and then murder your roommate?" Yates questions bitterly, "Did it make you feel good? Did you get some kind of sick high off of it?"

Tweek clenches his hands, "Why would I enjoy that? I fucking hated every moment! You don't know! You make it sound like you know but _you don't_!"

Yates snorts before giving Tweek a hard look, "Oh really? I don't know anything? Well how about you enlighten me? Go on; tell me what I'm missing in this story of yours, because I'm pretty sure I know what the fuck I'm talking about."

"He shouldn't have gotten in the way," Tweek hisses, "He should have let me kill myself!"

_How quickly things change. First you were the victim, and now you're just some kind of sick fuck. Congratulations scum. When they look at you, they'll think you're exactly like your mother, just another Tweak who was batshit crazy. We both know they'd prefer you dead._

Tweek yanks at his hair and smashes his head into the table, crying out as the corner splits the skin on his forehead open and a trail of blood runs down into his eyes. Yates curses and restrains Tweek, calling for back up.

"Get out! Get out of my head! You're ruining everything! You fucking bastard!"

_Oh so you're pleading clinically insane now? Great angle, I like it. You're smarter than I thought._

"I'm not insane, shut up! You're not real, you're not real." He hisses, his body pressing harder against the chair, Yates grip tightening on him.

_Oh but I am very real, and I'll be around forever and ever and ever and—well, you get the point. You're stuck with me. _

"Fucking brat what the hell are you doing!" Yates growls as other officers filter into the room.

"I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you!" Tweek chokes out, his head pulsing. He'll make sure the voice is gone, if it's the last thing he ever does.

Someone else grabs his arms and undoes his handcuffs, freeing Tweek's hands from the table. He struggles and spins around, slipping his hand out of the officers grasp and going for the gun on his hip. Grabbing it, the other officers all curse as Tweek attempts to free it from the holster. He can imagine it, the pleasure he'll get from pointing the barrel of the gun at his forehead. Everyone would freeze as Tweek turned the safety off and shot a hole right through his skull.

_You're a coward. We both know you won't do it. _

Tweek shakes before cursing, the other officers wrenching his hands of the holster and forcing them behind his back.

Yates pales considerably, running a hand nervously through his orange coloured hair, hair that Tweek thinks looks like fire, thinking of the disaster that could have happened if Tweek had managed to grab the gun.

A woman quickly handcuffs Tweek and forces him out of the room.

"Where are you bringing me? Stop!" Tweek screams. "Leave me alone!"

"Chief, were going to run him for tests. The kids not right in the head." Another man responds surly. "We're going to take him to a specialist."

"No! Let go! I didn't do it!"

Yates snarls, "Do whatever the hell you want with him, just get him out of my office, rookie! Place him onto suicide watch too. If he offs himself under your watch it'll be your ass _and mine _on the line."

* * *

Tweek had imagined doing a lot of things by the time he was twelve. Tweek had pictured himself being an ordinary boy: he'd hate school, be scared of horror movies, maybe have his first crush, be on some kind of sports team, or even own his very first pet. He thought he would have some good friends by now, who he would have invited to his birthday, which was last week, not that he remembered.

Tweek thought his life was bad when his parents had both died and he had been dumped into an orphanage. Tweek thought it was worse when he realized the voice inside his head was never going away, no matter how many pills he took. And then there was the murder of his first real friend…

Life has a funny way of making up new terrible situations that make the old ones pale in comparison.

At age twelve, Tweek was an orphan, a killer, and deemed by the state to be criminally insane. Tweek would take a dingy old orphanage over a psychiatric ward for crazy kids any day. Unfortunately, that wasn't a choice he was allowed to make.

White furniture, white uniforms, white straightjackets, foam walls, dead eyed nurses, and a sense of apprehension that floated in the air like a heavy musk. That's how Tweek could describe the ward. Every window was sealed shut, every door locked, and every adult indifferent.

Tweek has a feeling he's never getting out of here.

Currently he's sitting inside another doctor's office inside the hospital, staring blankly at the woman in a long white trench. It contrasts harshly with the darkness of her skin. She doesn't flinch away, or even scowl at him; she sits back and crosses her arms. They've been having this staring contest for the last five minutes, and it was starting to make Tweek feel uncomfortable.

"When I heard I'd been assigned Tweek Tweak as my newest case, I'd expected someone far more violent…and after hearing what happened when you were in custody, vocal as well." The woman narrows her eyes a fraction as she breaks the silence, watching him like some kind of dog. "They called you malicious in the news reports, even labeled you as blood thirsty and rash. How does that make you feel?"

Tweek tries to jump up, but he's been locked to the chair with the use of Velcro straps.

He has to stop himself from panicking, but he thinks the straps are getting together with every breath.

"What do you think?" he snaps, his voice a harsh whisper.

The woman gives a grin, "I can't tell you what you feel. That's for you to say. I can only take scientific guesses based on the information I've collected."

That causes him to twitch, "And what do you know?"

She smiles innocently, "What do you think?"

_Bitch got you there. _

Tweek hisses, "You know about the voice don't you? You know about my parents. You know about my life in the orphanage, how I'd scream and cry, and run away from imaginary monsters. And you know about…Pip."

Tweek smiles bitterly, and the woman blinks away her surprise at his sudden eagerness to talk.

"I do know all that, but I want to know why." The woman leans forward, "I know your past, with your parents, and the type of trauma that would leave on you. I don't believe you receive the best help where you were placed. The state had no right leaving you in the hands of the shoddy therapist you previously had. He was fired by the way, just so you know."

Tweek growls, "Am I supposed to care? I am never getting fixed am I? How can you cure this? I'm in a crazy hospital," He chokes out the word.

"What you have Tweek is a mental disorder. You weren't properly diagnosed until now, and that's why your pills were only making your hallucinations and anxiety worse."

"M-mental disorder?" he whispers, hands shaking.

"It's called schizophrenia. You show signs of abnormal behaviour in social situations. You have difficulty understanding the difference between make-belief and what reality. The voice in your head is nothing more than a figment of your imagination that you have a co-dependence with."

_That's not polite. I am far more than a figment of imagination. _

Tweek grits his teeth, feeling his hands shake violently.

He's been diagnosed.

He really is insane.

"My name is Dr. Black. I'm going to be your psychiatrist from now on, so please, sit back, relax, and get comfortable because it doesn't matter if you come to resent me, Tweek, you're stuck with me, and you're just going to have to live with it." She motions with her hand, a calm look on her face.

Tweek growls but doesn't turn away.

Dr. Black. Her name was a pun. Tactless in a way.

_She's not like your other doctor. This woman doesn't fuck around. Grating on her patience is going to be a lot more entertaining than I originally thought._

* * *

Tweek's lying asleep in his bed as he feels a hand on his shoulder, waking him instantly with a yelp.

"You, what's your name?" A boy with brown hair continues to shake Tweek with his hand, his eyes looking hollow and too old to be on a child that young.

Sitting up, Tweek pushes himself against the headboard, his eyes still hazy with sleep.

"Maybe he's stupid." A boy with black hair quips, sitting at the foot of his bed.

The brown haired boy crosses his arms. "Non, this boy does not look stupid," the boy has a sharp French accent, "he would need a stupid face like yours."

The black haired boy hisses, "At least my face isn't covered with shit like yours is."

"It's dirt, you asshole." The brunette snaps, and takes a seat on Tweek's bed, looking at him again, "I will ask one more time, what is your name?"

"T-Tweek." He forces out, glaring at the two strangers.

The brunette nods his head, "My name is Christophe, and this idiot beside me is Damien. We share the room beside you, and I want to know why you are here?"

Tweek's eyes widen, remembering all the jail movies he's watched in his lifetime. "Aren't you n-not supposed to ask another person why he's here? Why are _you here_?"

Damien laughs, "He's got you there, Frenchie."

Christophe rolls his eyes, "Fine, I will share. Let's just say that my father was a bastard and my shovel felt good against his face. Even better when I dug a hole and threw him in."

"We call Christophe The Mole," Damien has a weird smile on his face, "he's like a rat you just want to kill, all beady eyed and annoying."

"You are talking about yourself, now." Christophe snaps.

"I'm here because I set a bunch of churches on fire," Damien purrs, "It was amazing, one of the best things I've ever done. Guess the people inside can't agree, but damn, it was euphoric."

Christophe shakes his head, "What about you?"

Tweek crosses his arms wearily, his voice is dry. "I'm here because I'm crazy." The two boy's give a no shit kind of expression, waiting for him to continue. "I hear voices…ever since my mother killed my dad, and herself…"

"Is that it?" Damien asks with a yawn, "I thought I could smell the insanity on you, I might have been wrong."

Tweek growls, his jaw clenching. "I also strangled my best friend to death."

Christophe and Damien stare blankly at him for a moment before breaking into fits of laughter, their grins large on their faces.

"Your life is shit." Christophe chuckles, "you have been fucked up the ass by life, you poor bastard, you had a crazy muzza."

Tweek gawks at the brunette and his bluntness.

"Killing your best friend, shit, nice one dude." Damien laughs into his hands, "I guess I wasn't wrong about you. I like him, Frenchie. He looks like he wants to kill me!"

Christophe beams, "Good, because I want to kill you too. That is that, then Blondie. You are our friend, you will stick with us, and we will not leave you with the bitches."

Tweek blinks in confusion, wondering what the fuck had just happened. He has told them about his parents, about Pip, and they had only laughed.

"You guys are fucked up." Tweek whispers, hands shaking.

Christophe throws an arm over Tweek's shoulder, as Damien sprawls out in his bed.

"This is okay," Christophe grins, "You are fucked up too and god is a bastard."

Damien throws himself on top of Tweek and Christophe's legs, "We're all just a group of bastards!"

* * *

Tweek pants as he runs after Christophe, heading towards the sliver of land outside the patients of this ward are allowed to vacate. Damien is right behind him, chuckles escaping him as he tries to keep up. Tweek can't remember when it got to the point when he became buddy buddy with the two boys. It was almost instant, the bond they formed. They were easy to talk to, and had a warped sense of humor to boot.

"How long do you think it'll take them to notice, French-fry?" Damien whispers with a sneaky grin on his face.

Christophe swings the door open, and the three step out to the concrete playground area surrounded by high walls. They pick an unoccupied bench and sit around it. "I'd say ten minutes, easy. The nurses may be bitches, but they are not stupid like you."

Damien swings his fist at the brunette, who easily blocks it.

Tweek shakes his head; he can't believe they flooded all the washrooms in the staff only washroom. It was Damien who came up with all the stupid plans, but it was Christophe who executed them with ease. Tweek was used as the distraction for most cases, playing innocent, lying about seeing creatures or any other bullshit he could come up with.

It was fun, in a terrifying sort of way.

Christophe glared at Damien, "Did you have to draw a stupid star on the toilet bowls you over grown child?"

"Those were pentagrams!" Damien snaps back with a roll of his eyes. "You can't appreciate art."

Christophe leans forward, giving Tweek a knowing look, "I am perfectly capable of appreciating art. What you did looked like _sheet_. Blondie would agree, oui?"

Tweek rubs his hands together and gives a nervous laugh, "Ugh, well, I think it would have been nicer if you didn't draw it using blood…"

Damien scowls, "It wasn't _my_ blood."

Christophe raises a hand, "And we do not give a flying fuck who's it is or where you got it from. What asshole is watching us today? Are they reading a book?"

Tweek glances towards the building, where a male nurse is seen behind the glass, reading a book nonchalantly. "Y-yea."

"Ah, good. But he is still an uncultured swine." Christophe scowls as he pulls out a box of cigarettes and a lighter from his pant pockets. Damien grins as he stares at the lighter, his hands itching to grab it and set the nearest bench on fire.

Lighting the cigarette, Christophe pockets his goods, staring angrily at Damien, "No, none for you, stupid. Last time you got my lighter taken away and I had to chew the tobacco for two weeks because I had no way to light it. Absolutely disgusting."

Tweek's eyes widen in shock, "W-where did you get those? Isn't the nurse going to see you?"

Christophe waves his hand at Tweek, unconcerned. "Do not be so twitchy, the nurse there lets me smoke as long as he can have some when he is on brake. As if that piece of shit cannot afford his own. My muzza brings them to me once a month when she visits; she hopes they will kill me faster."

Damien sighs, "What a sweet mother, but not as lovely as Tweek's."

Tweek eyes the glowing tip with curiosity. He shuffles in his seat a little, bumping elbows with an amused Damien.

"I've never smoked before." Tweek whispers, "What's it taste like?"

Christophe has this surprisingly calm look on his face as he inhales his cigarette deeply, before leaning over the table. Tweek tenses as Christophe grabs the back of his head with his free hand, his cigarette in the other, and presses their lips together.

Damien gives a wolf whistle as Tweek opens his mouth in shock.

He's being kissed.

His first kiss is with Christophe.

Fucking _Christophe. _

_Ugh, spare me the details. _

Tweek's lips are still mashed to Christophe's as he gets a mouthful of smoke and pulls away, hacking and spluttering.

"B-Bastard!" Tweek wheezes as Christophe chuckles, Damien high fiving his friend.

"You asked what smoke tastes like, and now you know." Christophe replies obviously.

Tweek growls as he touches his lips, his cheeks flaming an angry red. "You're a jerk."

Damien breaks into a grin as he slings an arm over Tweek's shoulder, "Looks like you've got a new fan, Blonde. I just wanna let you know the Mole has a thing with holes; he's a bit of a dirty bastard you see, so if you don't protect your holes he will invade them," he clutches his stomach as he tries to keep a straight face, "without or without the shovel."

Tweek covers his face in embarrassment as Damien crumples into a fit of deranged laughter.

Christophe growls and slaps Damien over the head, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment, his eyes looking everywhere but at Tweek as he stubs out his smoke.

"Stop thinking with your deek you stupid perverted fuck!" Christophe growls.

"Christophe, Damien, Tweek, get in here right now! The toilets, oh god the _toilets._" A nurse shrieks, causing Damien to break down in laughter again.

"I bet they like my art!" Damien scoffs.

_I've never seen a more idiotic group of brats_, the voice slurs.

Tweek smiles, glad the voice is annoyed.

Christophe and Damien might be idiots, but they were his.

* * *

"How are you finding everything this week? Have the pills I've given you started to work?" Dr. Black is dressed as she usually is, and her tone is about the same. "Still getting in trouble with the boys I see."

Tweek has been taking sessions with her for a few weeks' now, and he can't really complain. A lot of it has to do with the new friends he's made, despite them getting him in trouble all the time because of their antics.

And he's super happy he doesn't have to be confined to seats with Velcro anymore.

"The pills are good, the voice speaks less." He smiles genuinely in relief.

Dr. Black gives her own sigh, "That's great, it seems like you're really responding well to therapy as well. And you've managed to be a little more social with your peers…despite all the constant pranks."

Tweek shrugs his shoulders, flinching as the door opens, and Dr. Black stares curiously at the door.

"Mom?" A young boy who looks about Tweek's age walks into the room. He has skin as dark as his mothers.

Dr. Black motions for her son to come in, and looks directly at Tweek.

"Tweek, this is my son Token who I've told you about. Token, this is Tweek." She introduces calmly.

"Hi, dude." Tweek whispers, eyes wide. It's weird seeing his doctor out of her usual setting. To think that she's actually a mother and not a robotic therapist like his previous one is a weird sight. It depresses him knowing she isn't' confined in the ward like Tweek is.

Token seems to have his mother's gentle eyes as he gives a small nod, "Pleasure to meet you, Tweek. I hope my mother has been helping you."

Tweek gives a panicked look to Dr. Black, who smiles supportively.

"Y-yea, she's helping…"

Dr. Black places a hand on her son's shoulder, causing him to look at her.

"Token, I'm just going to finish up here. How about you wait for me in the car?"

Token gives a quick wave to Tweek and exits the room.

"Tweek I have something to ask you, and I'll be honest, I have a feeling you're going to say no but I'm going to ask you regardless." Dr. Black taps her fingers against her desk hesitantly. "There's a funeral coming up that you have been asked to attend…I think you know exactly whose I'm talking about."

Tweek pales, his hands shaking violently. There could only be one person she could be referring too, who she _is_ referring too. He physically feels ill.

"It's Pip's isn't it?" Tweek hisses, slumping in his chair. "Why would they even want me there…I did it. I killed him."

Dr. Black sighs, "I know, but the orphanage considered asking you simply because they heard that you…weren't all there when you did it. Plus, priest Maxi insists you come, if anything to plead for forgiveness."

"They're going to hate me." Tweek locks eyes with her, "They'll look at me with disgust."

She shrugs, and sits back in her chair, "I'm not here to lie to you, Tweek. The news is going to be covering the funeral hoping to get a glimpse of you. They'll do anything to get the story of your family back onto their channels, and they don't care how it affects you. In my professional opinion, I suggest you don't go to Philip's funeral and avoid being ostracized by the media."

_Heh, you don't want to see your dearest Pip for one last time? I bet that would be a relief for him, he already had to see your ugly mug while you choked him to death. _

"I don't care." Tweek says. "I know it's stupid, but I want to be there. I deserve the dirty looks. The hatred. I killed him, but I want to say my last goodbyes…"

Dr. Black stands up as a nurse enters, "Then I'll make the arrangements for you to go and inform the head nurse. I can't say I agree with your logic, but if this is your choice then I hope the best for you…if luck is on your side, the people outside these walls won't be too cruel."

* * *

"So are you gonna go?" Damien yawns as he yanks the covers away from Tweek.

The blonde growls, pulling them back. He doesn't know why the two always insist on sneaking into his bed at night. First off it was against the rules, and the other two boys had their own room. It wasn't like Tweek's bed was anything fucking special.

Christophe, who's sitting on Tweek's left curses, "That is stupid. Why go to the funeral of the boy you killed?"

Tweek shrugs, "I just want to say goodbye."

Damien, who's curled into a ball on Tweek's right, gives a laugh, "That sucks, he died a virgin."

Christophe groans, "You really know how to be an insensitive bastard."

Tweek frowns as Damien leans over him, pinching the brunette's face, "It's okay; you'll find a fuck buddy one day. Or maybe you can stuff your shovel right up your a—"

Tweek covers Damien's mouth, the other boy growling and licking his palm, causing Tweek to pull back in disgust.

"What's a fuck buddy?" Tweek asks, feeling his face heat up.

Christophe gives Damien a dirty look, "It is someone who you sexually pleasure for the sake of feeling good, like a disgusting pervert."

Tweek frowns, "And what's…s-sex?"

Damien wrenches Tweek's hand away in shock, "Dude, what? How don't you know? You learn this shit in elementary school."

"I don't remember elementary school. I never learned it." Tweek feels his throat closing as his eyes sting with tears. He realizes that even here he's not a normal boy compared to the others.

Christophe doesn't seem amused, but he wraps and arm around Tweek regardless. "I will give you a quick lesson, okay? The boy has a penis, and the woman has a vagina, and together that makes a baby. When the boy and girl parts come together that is called sex. Sometimes girls will have sex with girls, and boys with boys, that will also be sex, but there will be no baby's."

"You suck at this," Damien scoffs, "Have you ever touched yourself, Tweek? Get yourself off?"

"N-No?"

"It feels good, look," Damien smirks as he grasps Tweek's crotch, palming the boy. Tweek's breath hitches as he feels the warm hand on him, and Christophe shoots Damien a dirty look. "See how you're getting hard down there? That's called arousal."

Damien leans in close to Tweek, "There are lots of ways to deal with arousal. You can stroke yourself, or let someone else do it." Damien stuck his tongue out and traced the shell of Tweek's ear with it, "You can have someone lick you down there, suck you off. Or you can have sex with someone, unless you liked being fucked."

"Enough," Christophe snaps, pulling Damien's hand away. "You're a filthy perve."

"Says the guy who kissed Tweek a few weeks ago."

Tweek was lightly panting, confusion on his face. He has never in his life been touched like that.

"That was a joke, not a real kiss." Christophe snaps.

"I bet you don't even know how to kiss." Damien replies with a grin.

"Yes I do, idiot!"

Tweek looks at Christophe, his nerves on fire. In a small voice he asks, "What's a real kiss?"

Christophe flinches back and glares at the dark haired boy, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Well Tweek," Damien purrs, "Let me show you."

Christophe shoves the boy away and grabs Tweek's chin with his hand, "That bastard's mouth is diseased ridden. I will show you."

Damien gave a smirk as he watched Christophe plant his lips on Tweek's.

The blonde's breath hitched as Christophe's lips moved against his gently, the sensation was alien, and different from last time. A lot different. He let his mouth open like last time, this time sure that no smoke would be flooding his lungs.

He could feel Christophe smile against his lips as he opened his mouth as well, and Tweek felts a warmth enter his mouth. He realized it was the other boys tongue, and it was casually stroking his, testing Tweek's reaction.

Damien sits up and barks out a laugh, "And that boys and girls is what you call a French kiss!"

Christophe swipes his tongue over Tweek's lower lip one last time before pulling away, wiping his mouth on his arm, "You think you're funny? I am French, of course I know how to fucking kiss."

Tweek was in a sort of awe at what just happened. He has so many more questions about this kind of stuff, he was so naïve.

"Um…What's sex exactly?" Tweek asks shyly, causing Christophe to gape.

"I will happily demonstrate!" Damien hisses, reaching out for Tweek, only to have Christophe slap his hand away.

"No, Tweek you do not need to know about that now."

"Yea, I guess frenchie is right, you don't have to worry about fucking. Plus, chances are you're never going to get laid because no one want's to fuck a crazy killer!" Damien laughs gleefully.

Tweek gasps and clenches his jaw as he throws the covers off, getting out of the bed. He's angry, angry because it's true, angry because it hurts.

"Where are you going?" Damien whines, grapping Tweek's shirt.

"Washroom." Tweek snaps, pulling out of his grasp.

Christophe sighs, "Damien you are stupid. Do you know that? Stupid piece of shit."

"What did I do?"

Tweek ignores the two boys as he walks towards the boys washroom, passing a nurse who's positioned outside of it. He walks in and stares at his face, anger growing inside of him.

_No one will love you,_ the voice whispers, sounding faint in his head, _look at you. Look at what you've done. The stupid boy is right, no one would want you. _

Tweek feels a sob come over him, and in a spur of anger he raises his hand and punches the mirror, watching it shatter so delicately. Now there are dozens of him, it makes him sick.

Fuck.

He hates himself so much.

The nurse comes in, screaming at him, but he doesn't care.

Tweek can only think of how shit everything is.

* * *

This time Tweek doesn't have a friend to accompany him. He only has two of the helpers from the Psychiatric Hospital flanking his sides, making Tweek appear desolate and tiny between their tall frames.

There are a handful of people at the church. He sees staff members and his old doctor, plus the other kids from the orphanage.

Everyone is wearing black, except for him.

His white attire makes him stick out like a sore thumb.

Tweek's ushered into a pew in the very back, away from the eyes clearly staring at him in anger and disgust. There's a camera man following his every movement; it seems like the Tweak name would be appearing on the news once again.

_Another murder to add to the Tweak scoreboard; like I said before, you're definitely going to get a movie deal out of this. Keep up the crazy behaviour, kill some more kids, and soon enough you're going to become a household name._

The Priest gestures towards the crowd, a questioning look in his eyes. "I can only wonder about humanity, and the potential it could have. What if there was no evil, and all strains of it removed? Would a woman be able to walk freely at any hour without worry for her own being? Would a man be able to leave his door unlocked without having to fret about the safety of his worldly belongings? Would every child be entitled to live a long and fulfilled life?"

Tweek bites the inside of his cheek nervously, feeling eyes on him. The white straightjacket he's in does nothing to convince the crowd that he's not crazy. To them, he is another burden.

"Throughout history we have witnessed an everlasting battle, one between good and evil. Philip was a young boy, an orphan with no family to his name. He was a victim of evil, but he is also a message for growth. It is terror that influences the violence in our youth, our world is not alright. Drastic change is needed to ensure that no other little boy, girl, woman, or man is stripped of their right to live. Let's us now bow our heads in memory and pray for Pip."

Tweek closes his eyes, the memories of the British boy too prominent in his mind. Tweek stands silently for another thirty minutes as Father Maxi concludes, letting Pip's memory finally lay to rest.

"I'm sorry." He whispers before being harshly yanked outside before the other guests or news reporters can surround him, questioning him on the murder.

The two nurses accompanying him steer Tweek away from the church and towards the vehicle that'll bring him back to his own slice of hell.

"You," a familiar voice growls, and Tweek forces himself to stop walking and to glance over his shoulder.

Gregory stands his full height, looking intimidating in an expensive suit, his light eyes holding anger and scorn deep within their depths. They try to burn Tweek alive. The two are at a standstill, and Tweek refuses to look away first.

"You," Gregory repeats again, "You killed him. He was the one person in that entire nuthouse that was actually decent to you…the one person who actually wanted to help you, and he was killed by your hands. You disgust me."

Tweek forces a broken smile, "Thank you for coming to his funeral."

Gregory spits on him, and the saliva runs down Tweek's right cheek. If he had access to his hands he'd wipe it away, maybe flip the boy off, but unfortunately he doesn't have that privilege.

"You didn't deserve his kindness. You don't deserve to live. If only you died that day." Gregory hisses, turning his back on Tweek, "He should have never tried to save your psychotic, irrational arse. If I'm lucky, they'll put you down like a dog."

_Harsh. It might just be me, but I have a strong feeling this guy doesn't like you. _The voice laughs at its own deranged sense of humor.

Gregory stops abruptly and glances over his shoulder at Tweek for one last time, "Or just maybe…you'll smarten up and finish what you started."

Tweek bites his tongue as he watches Gregory leave the premises with his new parents.

_The boy has a way with words._

The nurses grab his arms and lead him back towards the car, their grips tight on him as if he plans on running. Tweek closes his eyes and tries not to think of Pip or what he did to the poor boy. No one will believe him if he says it was the monster that did it. It was always the monster.

The spit cools on his cheek, and he tries to wipe it off with his shoulder.

Tweek knows that this is the last time he will ever see Gregory.

_Lucky you._

* * *

It was late at night, and Tweek had snuck into the room that Damien and Christophe shared. The two dark haired boys were cuddling together on Damien's bed, Christophe's head lying lazily on Damien's shoulder. Damien was holding a cup of something that smelled suspiciously like…like _coffee_. Tweek stole it from his hand and settled onto the bed beside the two boys, sipping the beverage longingly.

"Yea, your welcome." Christophe coos, "I sneaked into the bitches lounge and made it nice and dark for you, mon amie."

Tweek smiles and mumbles a thank you under his breath as he chugs back the poorly made coffee. He can taste the grit between his teeth, but it's the thought that counts. He places the cup on the floor and snuggles into the Mole's side, pressing his face against the boy's worn uniform.

For once there are no snappy comments or playful shoves as the three of them lie together, enjoying each other's presence. It was nice, to be so close to someone; Tweek realizes he misses human intimacy. He had been close with Pip at one point before everything had gone to hell. He never expected human comfort after that, especially not with someone rugged like Christophe. The French boy actually wrapped his arms around the blonde haired boy with nothing more than a smirk.

Damien surprises Tweek by running his hand though Tweek's long locks, which look as untamed and wild ever since Tweek's been denied access to using any mirrors.

"It's time for me to go home." Damien says nonchalantly, looking lazily at Tweek.

Christophe rolls his eyes, "You have no home to go back to. You're abandoned, like a stray cat ridden with fleas. Except instead of fleas, it is insanity."

"I like you a lot better when your mouth is closed around a cigarette," Damien snaps, glaring at the brunette. "Plus, if I'm an insanity ridden cat, does that make you a mangy dog with a god complex?"

"I am not a dog, I fucking hate dogs." Christophe sneers, "And I do not have a god complex because that fucker does not exist. How many times do I need to tell you this, idiot?"

Tweek doesn't know what to think of religion. He's never really believed in any kind of god after his parents had died. How could a god allow his creations to suffer in the way they have? Wasn't it his job to help the damned?

"You're wrong, 'Tophe. I'm the son of Satan; therefor there is a bastard god in this universe."

"Son of Satan?" Tweek whispers, not liking the way Damien said it. It was like he was in a state of pleasure, the words oozing from his lips as he hissed pleasantly at the thought.

Damien stands up, pulling the other two boys behind him.

"Where are we going?" Tweek asks nervously, clutching tighter on Damien's hand.

"The common room. It seems like a good place for goodbyes."

The three are quiet until they enter the tacky little room, void of any patients. They should technically be in bed, but Damien seems determined. Tweek's not sure about what.

Tweek watches as Damien takes Christophe's lighter and flicks it on. Tweek and Christophe watch the devious noirette as he lights the curtains on fire, and then the back of the couch. And then he snaps the lighter in half, rubbing the lighter fluid onto his shirt and face.

Christophe frowns at his broken lighter, but smirks as Damien glances at the rapidly growing fire.

"Satan's calling me." Damien runs his tongue over his lips, "It's time to say hello to dear old dad. See you in hell, guys."

He backs into the flames eating away at the curtains and his clothes catch fire instantly.

Tweek's breath stops in his throat as he watches. Horror is evident on his face.

Damien grins as fire envelops him, his body going up in crimson red. It's almost surreal, watching their grinning friend stand upright with no more than a groan as flames envelop his body. The curtains are fully ablaze, as well as the furniture, before the flame trickles into the hallway, setting the carpeted floors on fire too.

There's a sudden frenzy as the fire alarms blare. Clothing and furniture are catching fire; heavy smoke is filling the air. Tweek and Christophe stand silently as yelling comes from the doctor's ward. It seems like everyone is awake now.

"I am the antichrist!" Damien screams giddily as his skin chars right before Tweek's eyes as he collapses, "Death! I am Death!"

Christophe laughs at the spectacle of chaos, "He is crazy as sheet! How can there be an antichrist if there is no god?" he breaks out into a deranged grin.

Tweek stares fearfully at The Mole, who pulls out a cigarette from his pocket while he crouches down. He smirks and then uses the flames eating through Damian's dead body to light the cancer stick.

Putting it into his mouth, Christophe spins around and grabs Tweek by the wrist, "Come, we go now or we die like Damien."

Christophe blinks in amusement as Tweek pulls his arm away and smiles bitterly.

"Ah, so you have decided then." Christophe snickers, placing a hand on Tweek's head. "May your death be grand, quick, and hurt like a bitch. Adieu, Twitch, you have been one of the craziest bastards I have ever known. I am happy to have called you my friend."

Tweek nods as Christophe darts outside, covering his head to avoid receiving flames to the face.

Tweek glances around the room before getting the floor, sitting down and letting his tears finally fall.

He curls into himself, left in a room of fire, looking directly at the charred flesh of Damien's body. Smoke fills his lungs, and he makes sure to inhale deeply. He wants to ruin his lungs; he wants to die on the inside; he wants burn alive. The flames crawl across the carpeted floor and hesitantly lick at his clothing, before warmly embracing him. Tweek's never felt so warm before, he's never felt so smothered.

He wants to die. He wants to be free now.

_Stupid, you're so stupid. You don't get it do you? You'll never be free, not as long as I'm here. Your life is pitiful, a waste, but it won't be over yet. I still haven't had my fun with you. You'll live, you'll never leave, and I'll make sure of it. _

"I won't be here any longer. I will die, I will!" Tweek wheezes, gasping as his breath rips out of him.

The air is getting heavy and his eyes are burning from the smoke; no one's coming to rescue him this time. No one will stop him. A scream tears out of him as his body catches fire, but even as his skin bubbles and his hair burns, he's happy about the pain because it means that death is sure to follow.

He can finally pay for his sins.

_Not if I can help it. _

He can finally die.

_I won't let you._


	5. Chapter 5

Part 3

Chapter 5

_The Tease inside my head_

* * *

For a long time he feels nothing.

No pain. No regret. Nothing. This feeling is not a bad thing.

Tweek feels like he's finally reached a sense of peace for the first time in his life. It's like he's curled into himself and nothing can hurt him. A light chill comes over him, and he wonders if he's in some sort of limbo. A person like him would probably end up in hell, but it doesn't feel like he's gone somewhere with scorching hot flames. He knows what it feels like to be burned and it doesn't feel anything like this, like how he is now.

"That's because you're deep into your subconscious, Twitch." The voice is harsh and causes Tweek to gasp, his green eyes flying open.

He's on his back looking up at an endless white sky. His head feels groggy and he's soaked to the bone in water. He sits up silently, looking around whatever scape he's been subjected too.

He tries to locate the person who spoke, but he finds nothing but his own reflection in the water below.

His eyebrow's furrow at the Tweek located before him; his face looks hollow and angry, his hair is a pale blonde, paler then Tweek's own hair, but his eyes are dark.

Tweek covers his mouth as he screams, the image in the water attacking him and pinning him down to the floor. He feels his head submerged under water as the ghost boy strangles him.

"Did you ever wonder how Pip felt?" The boy hisses with a smirk, "It felt something like this. Like death staring you in the face, just out of your grasp."

The boy releases Tweek and he breaks the surface of the water, gasping and crying as he hacks up biter tasting water from his lungs. He pushes himself away from the strange creature, the look-a-like.

"Did you miss me?" The boy taunts and gives a smile.

"I don't know you!" Tweek doesn't understand what's happening, or who this boy is.

"That's a pretty damn shame, isn't it?" The boy crawls towards him, the water staining red around him. "Close your eyes and think. Think in that empty head of yours. Who am I? Who could I be?"

Tweek kicks himself away from the leering boy, water splashing up around him. Something about the boys tone makes him cringe and fills him with anger. The voice, the _voice_.

"You're the voice inside my head; the bastard who's been ruining my life." Tweek growls with a burst of courage.

"Is that any way to speak to your best friend?" the copy questions, sounding insulted.

"We're not best friends."

"Hmm, perhaps you're right. We're more like blood brothers now that I think about it. How cute are we, growing up together, never being apart. I feel like we know all of each other's secrets. Yes, yes! That _is_ a far greater bond than just being best friends. It's almost as if we can get into each other's heads!" The voice laughs madly, splashing water with his hands like child.

Looking around, Tweek tries to find somewhere to run to. He doesn't trust the voice, especially not here, wherever the hell that is.

The boy notices Tweek's apprehension and whines, "I was just teasing! Tease, _Tease_." In a flash the boy is standing in front of Tweek, their noses touching. "Call me Tease, and I shall call you my cockroach like pet."

Shoving Tease away, Tweek darts in any direction, his feet and clothes weighed down by the murky water. He stumbles as a corpse version of his mother floats in the water before him.

"Baby where are you running to?" her dead lips ask curiously.

Tweek yelps and runs around it, seeing the dead body of his father appear, and then all the kids he knew in the orphanage.

"I know none of this is real, Tease! You're just a figment of my imagination, and nothing you do can hurt me." Tweek growls while dodging bodies that spring out of the water like weeds.

"Oh really?" Tease hisses, materializing in front of Tweek, punching the blonde in the stomach. Tweek doubles over, clutching his stomach in agony. Tease grins as he kneels down, "As you can see, Twitch, I am very real."

Tweek holds back tears as he swipes at the copy's face, leaving long red lines. "All I need to do is wake up! I'll wake up and you'll be gone, and then I'll kill you."

A light appears in the distance, and Tweek jumps up, shoving Tease to the side.

"What are you doing?" Tease screams childishly, gripping his head tightly, "Stop! You can't wake up! You just got here!"

Tweek ignores the monster and keeps running towards the light. He can feel it, a warmth overcoming him.

"Stop! You'll kill me!" Tease shrieks, chasing after him. "You can't! You need me, you need _me_!"

"I don't need you!" Tweek shouts back, his lungs feeling like their on fire. He outstretches his hands, grasping at the light. It's so close; he might be able to get away from the demon that has made his life a living hell. Who's done nothing but antagonize him for years.

As soon as Tweek makes contact with the piercing light an inhumane sound rips out of Tease, and the breath is ripped out of Tweek.

He's free. He made it.

The demon has finally lost.

* * *

His eyes fly open as he gasps for breath, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. He glances around the room, shock evident on his features. Tweek is in a hospital room, and by the ache of his limbs, he's been here for a while. He sits up and props himself up against a pillow, glancing at his hands in front of him.

He waits for something to happen, something to jump out at him, but it never happens.

"Tease?" he whispers, voice feeling hoarse. "B-bastard, are you there?"

What is this? A trick? Reality?

He waits for a moment, shocked that the demonic copycat in his head hadn't made a vicious retort to insult him as he usually does. Maybe he finally did it, broke out of his mental cage. Was this real? Was he free from the demon in his head?

Tweek takes his time to glance at the room, confused why he's here unattended. He's also furious that his attempt to kill himself didn't work since he was positive that Damien's fire would be the thing to put him out of his misery, but clearly that didn't work.

His eyes latch on to an assortment of 'get well soon' cards sitting beside his bed. He grabs one with a hand drawn picture of kids in a classroom on the cover; inside it's signed from Mr. Garrisons grade four class…what the hell is this? Why would his old classmates give him anything? Tweek was in grade four years ago, all of his would be friends would be entering grade seven if he had his years right.

Plus, he couldn't even remember fourth grade. It didn't make sense.

He places the card back on the stand where flowers and toy animals are sitting, and jumps as the door swings open. The face of his parent's shocks him right down to his core as they run into the room, and he's instantly on guard. A female and male nurse come into the room as well, looks of shock on their faces. The male nurse started checking Tweek's vitals on the monitor as the female nurse runs out of the room calling for a doctor.

"Tweek!" His parents shout out simultaneously, flanking his side.

His mother is sobbing into her hands while his father grabs onto her, his face lit up into a smile.

"You're not real. You're supposed to be dead." He says fearfully, leaning away from them. His mouth is dry and he feels suddenly hot, like his whole body has a fever. He gasps as he feels his mother's hands wrap around him, and they don't feel fake, but warm and tangible.

"Oh baby, I never thought you'd wake up. You were asleep for so long." Eavan cries into his hair.

His father places a hand tenderly on Tweek's blonde mane, "I'm so sorry champ. This was my fault, I'm so sorry, son."

Tweek pushes his mother away and glares weakly at both of them, "I don't understand. You're both supposed to be dead! I watched you die!"

Eavan flinches as Richard bends down onto his knees, "You were in an accident Tweek. I don't know if you remember, but it was a few months ago. I brought you to a basketball game, do you remember? It was for your birthday, and…we got into a car accident. I…I thought I lost you. They said you would never wake up, that there was too much damage, but I'm so happy you're awake, Tweek. I just, I couldn't believe it when the nurse said your vitals had spiked."

Tweek shakes his head in anger, "I remember the accident, but that's not how it happened! I was an orphan; I was placed into an orphanage. I went to both of your funerals."

Richard flinches and looks to his wife for support, but it's clear they both don't know that to say to their son.

A knocking appears on the door, and Tweek gaps as Pip walks into the room, ushered in by a surprised looking woman.

Richard points at the blonde boy, "Tweek, this is—"

"P-Pip! That's _Pip_?! We were in the orphanage together." Tweek blurts out, completely in shock. His eyes are specifically on the small blonde, whose eyes are lit up in excitement. "I killed him. He's dead. I went to his funeral too." Tweek grits his teeth, cringing as Pip's smile turns into a concerned frown.

The blonde woman accompanying Pip grasps onto Eavan, whose still crying. "Tweek, baby, you were never in an orphanage. This is Phillip's mother. Baby, what are you saying? "

"No! I was in an orphanage with Pip and Gregory because you and dad were dead! I killed Pip, I-I don't understand." Tweek growls as he grips his hair in confusion.

The woman holding his mother steps up towards Tweek, "I…I guess I should tell you it was my husband who was in the other car on that night. The night you got into the accident. Pip was in the car with Gregory that night, and when they hit you…"

Pip rubs his eyes, "My father was a pigheaded drunk. He drove into your car and killed himself. I managed to get out with a few minor burns…Gregory was my brother. He didn't make it. I remember watching you get pulled out of the car covered in blood. I've been coming to the hospital ever since…you remind me of him…of Gregory…"

"What?" Tweek hisses.

Richard nod's sadly, "Tweek I know it's a lot to take in, but I hope one day this will all make sense to you. You've been in the hospital since that car accident. There's been no orphanages, no funerals."

Tweek blows out a breath of air. Everything he's ever known has been what? Some kind of delusion or maybe even a drug induced dream? Tweek flinches as Pip grabs one of his hands, looking crestfallen.

"I would talk to you for hours while you lay in here," Pip sniffles, "I didn't want you to die. Not before I could apologize to you for what my father did. I'm so sorry."

Tweek bites his lip hard, ignoring the sharp taste of blood that fills his mouth. "But I remember waking up after the crash. I met you in the orphanage. And when I went to the hospital again…I mean what about Damien and Christophe? I knew those two so well—you can't tell me they're not real, that I imagined all that!"

The male nurse stiffens and turns around, and Tweek finally takes notice of the man with the dark hair and dark eyes.

"My names Damien." He blinks, "I've been your nurse for the past few months. And Christophe is the name of your doctor."

Eavan turns to look at the nurse, "What's wrong with my son! Why is he speaking like this? Oh god, my baby!"

Damien turns to the door in relief, "About time you got here."

A tall man with dark brown hair enters the room, his eyes trained specifically on Tweek. "He is awake?"

The French accent makes Tweek gasp.

"Dr. DeLorne, he's showing recognition to the individuals in this room, but he's also proclaiming he's met them in alternate situations." Damian says sourly, looking down at his notes. "He knows of us as well, or so he believes."

"They weren't alternate situations." Tweek snaps, "I remember you and Christophe. You even look the same. But you died, Damien. I watched."

Christophe walks past the others in the room and reaches out to Tweek, checking his eyes, testing his hearing, and running other test's Tweek has no care for.

The smell of cigarettes is strong on the doctor, who looks like an older version of his Christophe. He even has the same damn accent. "You have been asleep for a long time so it makes sense that you have created fictitious accounts for the people here. It is interesting how you have imagined persona's for both Damien and I. I do not understand the death comment, but I think that trauma is something from the car accident, no?"

Tweek frowns, his eyes looking away.

Christophe places a hand on Tweek's shoulder. "For today we are going to let you sleep, and tomorrow we will start your healing process. It is scary I imagine for you, to wake up, feeling confused. We will be here for you Tweek, you will not have to go through this alone. Let's give him some space, come now."

Christophe gives Tweek a reassuring smile and walks out of the room with Damien hot on his heels. His parents kiss his cheeks and sadly walk out of the room, accompanied by Pip's mother. Pip himself stands silently, a small smile on his face.

"I hope we can become friends…I'm relieved you didn't die…" He sniffles.

Tweek swallows thickly, these feelings too intimate for him.

"I'd like that." He whispers as Pip exits the room.

Lying back in the bed he stares up at the white ceiling, confusion pulsing through him. He doesn't understand anything anymore. But that might not be a bad thing. Tweek's entire life, or the life he thought he had, was a struggle in itself. Filled with pain and agony, and so many regrets…

"My parents aren't dead. And neither is Pip. O-or Damien either…" He says to himself, his voice sounding alien to his own ears.

Someone knocks on his door, and the face of the female nurse appears. "Tweek, one of your school friends are here. I know that visiting hours are over, but he refuses to leave without seeing you."

Tweek frowns and nods his head, glancing back at the hand drawn card. He can't remember his school friends. He's not sure if he had any.

"Congratulations, you finally woke up, Twitch." Someone cheerily says, his voice making Tweek's blood run cold.

He throws the sheets off his bed and glares at Tease, whose standing in front of him with a stuffed teddy bear in his arms.

"Oh, are you not happy to see me? You're so gullible it's hilarious. You actually thought this was real didn't you? Mommy and daddy alive and well, little Pip smiling at you as if you didn't kill him! Hilarious!"

"Fuck you!" Tweek screams while getting up. "Is this some fucking game to you?"

Tease laughs at him, and Tweek feels the tears brimming around his eyes. He bolts out of the room, trying to get away from the monster with the smiling face. As soon as he enters the dark hallway his foot slips on something wet, causing him to crash into the wall, a blast of pain stemming from his neck from the whiplash. He screams as he realizes its blood.

Damien and Christophe's faces have been slashed and stabbed, their dead bodies lying before him. Tweek covers his mouth from the smell, spotting the bodies of his parents, and of Pip, all packed together in the hallway, their eyes lifeless.

Tease wraps his hands around Tweek's middle, and bites hard onto his shoulder, causing the blonde to shake in fear.

"I told you I'd break you, pet." Tease grins, freezing Tweek in place. "So close, and yet so far."

Tweek closes his eyes, "I hate you; I hate you so much."

Tease snorts as he sucks lazily on Tweek's neck, "The feeling is mutual, pet."

* * *

Tweek's been lying on his back in the same spot for a long time. He's not sure when Tease left him on this grassy hill, or when he finally gave up struggling. Paralyzed throughout his entire body, Tweek can't even muster enough strength to look surprised when Pip and Damien approach him, coming seemingly out of thin air.

They're holding hands, releasing each other as they finally reach him. Unable to turn his head, he can only see their legs from his position, until they sit down beside him, seeming unfazed by his lack of movement.

"You look pretty today, Tweek." Pip say's politely as he braids Tweek's hair, a flower crown being attached to the locks.

Damien rolls his eyes as he blows out a hefty breath, throwing grass onto Tweek's face. "Yea, you're a pretty fucking picture, Blondie."

Tweek's eyes glaze over as he glances at the dark purple bruises laced around Pip's neck, looking like an accessory. Tweek did that. He left those marks. The boy smiles widely when he notices Tweek's staring. Pip brushes some grass out of Tweek's face and leans against Damien's side. The dark haired boy has patches of dark burnt flesh marring his snow white skin. No one seems to notice.

"You know," Damien drawls, "It's thanks to you that me and daisy boy are here."

"Oh hush now, this isn't so bad." Pip scolds him, and yelps as Damien sinks his teeth into the smaller boys shoulder.

"It's true. Imagine if we never met him, things would be different." Damien shrugs, blowing into Tweek's eyes, causing them to water.

The heaviness of Tweek's limbs cause him to sink deeper into the grass, not that the other two boys have noticed. Pip scoots away from Damien and places his head onto Tweek's stomach, poking it with his fingers. "You're so warm, Tweek. All I'm use to now is being cold."

"Lucky you, I rather feel cold then unnaturally hot." Damien growls while stripping off his clothes, leaving nothing but his boxers on. "It's like I'm melting into a puddle of myself."

"How disgusting." Pip crinkles his nose, wrapping himself in Damien's discarded clothes.

Tweek blinks as Damien's face comes into view, "Cat got your tongue, babe? Or did the bastard Frenchie bite it off?"

Pip makes a sound of disproval, "Do you always have to be so vile?"

"Don't lie, it turns you on." Damien hisses, "You want me to bite your tongue off don't you."

Tweek's lip fall into a slight smile before they return to their previous expression.

"See blondie, I told you, Hell isn't so bad." Damien grins, "Better than this shit hole. Speaking of Hell, it's time to head back, Pip."

Tweek makes a whining sound, not wanting them to go.

Pip runs a hand through Tweek's hair, "Good luck Tweek. I wish we had more time."

Damien wraps his arms around the British boys waist and throws Tweek his middle finger, "Bye bye, you blonde haired brat." He smirks.

The two of them disappear in an instant, and Tweek's not sure if he imagined them, or if Tease created them just to remind Tweek of the people he no longer had.

Tease really lives up to his name.

Tweek's body gradually gets heavy enough to melt into the earth. Clots of dirt fill his open mouth and nose, seeping deep into his lungs as daisies twist around his limbs, their roots dragging him down deeper. There's no point fighting, only acceptance.

Tweek closes his eyes as he lets the land swallow him whole.

* * *

"Leave me alone." He whispers to the white landscape around him. Tweek doesn't want to think, doesn't want to talk, and most of all, he doesn't want Tease to exist.

The copycat circles Tweek like a vulture who's found its latest meal. "You'd miss me too much if I was gone. Who else could you talk to about your bleak and dreary reality? You need me."

"No I don't. I don't want you here." He closes his eyes, ignoring the others presence.

"Think back, and think hard." Tease hisses in his ear, "I have a question for you. What really happened that night all those months ago? I really think it's a compelling story you've convinced yourself to believe. It's miraculous how well human beings can lie to themselves. How well you've lied to yourself. Think back, back to the kitchen, with your mother, just you and mommy making dinner. How she was dicing carrots before your father came home. Think back, back to that very day, and ask yourself, was she really?"

Tweek eyes flick open as he shoves the monster away, only to stumble through Tease and fall to his hands and knees. "Shut up! Why do you keep bringing it up? It happened so long ago, I don't want to remember it. I don't want to think back!"

Giggling fills the mindscape, and Tweek covers his ears. He hates the sound of tittering laughter, the noise disturbs him. He fucking hates giggling.

"I keep bringing it up because it's so fucking funny!" Tease screams, "Once upon a time a woman was chopping _carrots_ and then she murders the love of her life! Truly a spectacular story you've concocted in that warped mind of yours! I've thought about letting you living out this delusion of yours, but I know it's more entertaining to tell you the truth!"

"You're a liar; everything you say is a lie. All you do is fucking lie to me!"

Tease twirls in a circle, closing his eyes as a content smirk graces his features. Tweek jumps up as the earth shakes and four walls shoot up from the ground, trapping him into a box. A table appears, and then a kitchen counter, and then his pretty mother. She's standing in front of him chopping carrots. Tweek spins around, fear on his face as he realizes he's been placed back into that goddamn kitchen, the one where everything went wrong. Tease is going to show him the moment that made Tweek's life a living hell.

He needs to get out, he needs to get out!

"Stop this!" Tweek whines, backing away from his dead mother, ignoring the way she hums under her breath. He gasps as he feels himself moving forward instead, his body no longer under his own control.

Looking up, Tweek can see Tease tower over him, peering down at him as if he was a hamster in a cage. "This is the truth, Twitch. This is what really happened. It's not fair to keep you in the dark; I know how much you hate the dark."

"Mom?" Tweek feels the words literally rip out of him. He struggles to keep his mouth closed, but it works to no avail. "Can I help you?"

His mother looks down at him before smiling airily, "Of course, sweetie."

Tweek screams as she holds out the knife, waiting for him to take it.

"Come on Twitch! Take the knife! That's what you did last time, or did you forget?" Tease jeers, "take it, take it, take it and chop the carrots like a good little boy!"

With a shaking hand Tweek growls as he clasps the knife in his hand, and moves towards the cutting board, slowly cutting carrots as his mother watches.

"You're a bastard! Stop this! This isn't what happened!" He cries, biting his lip as he can hear his father's car pull into the driveway. His father enters the kitchen, looking solemn.

Eavan turns to look at her husband, "Richard, I've decided to pull Tweek out of school".

"No! No! Stop!" Tweek screams.

"You're not pulling him out of school," Richard barks out.

Tweek can't stop himself from chopping carrots. He tries yanking himself away but he's glued there. His parents are shouting but he can't make out any of the words. "Tease! Please, no more I don't want to see anymore!"

"This is the best part, Twitch." He bellows.

Richard rests his back against the counter, closing his eyes. "Eavan, I filed for a divorce today…I'm taking Tweek with me."

The chopping finally stops and Tweek's forced to look up at his father, and then peer at his mother's crestfallen face.

"You can't, that's my baby—you can't take my baby!" She whimpers, her breaths quickening in fear, "Richard, you can't."

"Eavan, I already did it."

Tweek screams as _he_ plunges the knife deep into his father's chest, the action making his head swoon as the knife sinks through his flesh easily. He tries stopping but he can't and he's yelling things at his father, calling him a monster. His father looks so shocked, so betrayed.

"Look! Look!" Tease snaps, "You killed him! You killed your own father!"

Tweek yanks the knife out and shakes his head, "No! I didn't, I couldn't—mom did that! She did it! It's because she was sick! I didn't do this!"

"What kind of son kills his father and blames it on his own mother?" Tease shrieks, "You did, _you did_!"

His mother backs away from Tweek and darts into the living room. He chases after her, trying to apologize, trying to tell her that he's not the monster that she thinks he is. She tries dialing on the phone but she can't even hold it in her shaking grasp. She whips the phone at him, and Tweek winces as it collides sharply with his chest. His mother darts towards the forbidden door, running into the basement like a scared animal.

"Run Alice, run into the rabbits' hole!" Tease's infuriating voice shreds Tweek's eardrums as Tweek follows his mother down the stairs.

He walks towards the safe circle, the darkness lifting into a pale light fog. He can't see anything in front of him but a dim glow that reminds him of the night light. Moving forward, Tweek feels like his limbs are in water. The knife is heavy in his hand, weighing down with every step. He sees his mother hiding in the secret circle, her head pressed tightly against her knees as she sobs. She's singing to herself, cradling a scraggly stuffed cat, and a nice looking toy dog.

"Mommy," Tweek's voice sounds surreal even to his own ears, "does mommy still love Tweek? He got rid of the monster for mommy."

He lifts the knife, and he tries to throw it away, dreading what's coming next.

She can't even look at him when she whispers, "I hate you."

Tweek flinches and he tries to run. This isn't real, this is just that bastard Tease fucking with him. He's always fucking with him. But it feels so real. What if he did kill his father? What if he did blame it on his mother?

"You're a monster baby, a monster." She sobs, throwing the stuffed dog as far away from her as possible.

He launches at her, embedding the knife into her chest as she sobs and claws at him, crawling out of the safe circle as an anxiety attack seizes her. Blood pools from her wound, her dying noises sounding like sirens in his disoriented state.

Tweek bites his lip so hard that he draws blood; he's so confused. He watches his mother die, curled into herself as she cries and begs. He collapses into the safe circle, his breath no longer coming to him. He grasps at his throat as he chokes, inhaling air but never having it reach his lungs.

He's dying, and all Tease can do is laugh.

"Don't you see? Don't you see the truth? It was you, you all along. You convinced everyone, that you were the victim, that you were the one who needed protecting from the big scary monster. You're the monster. You murdered your parents, and you murdered that poor British boy. You were the one that killed them, and now you know. You committed the perfect murder with your parents; the poor son blames his crazy mother for the murder of his father, and then, she kills herself in grief. How did you manage to create a story so believable all on your own? If only they knew what you did. But don't worry Twitch, they won't know, because I won't tell. It'll be our little secret. Forever, and ever, until the day you die."

Tweek moans, "No, I didn't. I didn't!"

Tease snorts, "Don't believe me do you? Let me show you again. You'll remember! You'll remember what you did!"

Tweek tries to run, but he feels his body slacken, before coming under someone else's control. No more, not again!

The basement is replaced with the kitchen; his mother is standing at the counter chopping carrots. Tweek screams in his head as he steps towards her, trying to bite his tongue and kill himself.

"Mom?" Tweek feels the word come out of him for a second time. Tease is going to do it. Make him repeat this over and over again. Tweek cries as he continues with the script; "Can I help you?"

Over, and over again.

Tweek loses count at how many times he's killed his parent's.

"Mom?" He whispers, "Can I help you?"

Tweek can't breathe anymore.

"Mom?" He screams, "Can I help you?"

Tease grin's maliciously, enjoying every second.

"Mom?" He sobs, "Can I help you?"

The will of Tweek Tweak finally breaks.


End file.
